Back in the Saddle
by Shadpup
Summary: Emily's first case back in the field is pretty straightforward. A simple consultation or is it?
1. Chapter 1

_I'm back! See, the three week wait wasn't so bad was it? Got a lot written in that time. So this story picks up almost immediately after Second Chances. If you haven't read it, that is okay. The stories do stand on their own. And as always, I will a new chapter every Wednesday. Those who have read my previous story, know I'm a consistent poster._

_Now its time for the normal disclaimers. I don't own any of the Criminal Minds characters, I just borrow them. Secondly, I'm not a shipper. There will be no romantic relationship between the characters. So don't waste your valuable time asking, hinting, or wishing that I pair up certain characters. It is never going to happen. Sorry._

_That said, now go read and enjoy._

* * *

"Which one is he?"

Emily turned to find Derek Morgan standing next to her, hands buried in the pockets of his unzipped jacket. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a voice tinged with annoyance.

He just shrugged. "Just watching a Lacrosse game like you."

Emily let out a snort of disgust. She turned her attention back to the playing field where twenty teen and pre teen boys coursed up and down its length trying to throw, scoop or kick a small rubber ball into the goal. "You following me now?" she accused him.

He gave her a crooked grin. "It wasn't hard. Cab drivers never notice that they are being tailed."

His teasing fell on deaf ears. Emily did not return his smile, obvious upset that he was here. She stared determinedly ahead, jaw clenched, mouth set in a firm line, eyes cold and unreadable. She was dressed similarly to him, in jeans and a jacket to ward off the chill of a cool autumn day. Only hers was zipped all the way up, covering the sling that still supported her right arm. The end of the empty sleeve was tucked into the pocket so that it didn't flap around in the breeze.

Most of Emily's injuries from her second fight with Doyle had healed. She no longer limped except when she was really tired. The splints on her two fingers were gone which she was extremely thankful for. They had been itchy and she could never reach the spots to scratch. The heavy and inflexible brace she had worn on her wrist and hand had been traded in for a lightweight and flexible version. She had regained almost full motion in her shoulder but her slow healing collarbone was hampering its recovery. As a precaution the doctor wanted her to continue wearing the sling during the day for the next two weeks.

"Which one is Declan?" Derek asked again.

"Matthew," she corrected. "Number twenty-nine in the blue jersey. He's on defense and his position is cover point."

"What does that mean?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is that Lacrosse reminds me of ice hockey except that it is played on grass."

A shout went up when Declan's team scored the winning goal in the final seconds. As the boys slapped each on the back for a job well done, Emily turned to leave.

"Aren't you going to stay and congratulate him?" he asked, puzzled by her behavior.

"No," she said bluntly, heading for the parking lot and pulling out her phone to call a cab.

Derek hurried to catch up with her. "Why not? I'm sure Declan would be glad to see you."

"Morgan," she warned him in a low voice that he was overstepping his bounds.

He pressed on oblivious to her warning. "You were gone for a long time. He must be wondering why you stopped coming."

Emily whirled around and he stopped dead in his tracks. He could feel the anger radiating off her. "It's none of your damn business, Morgan," she growled. "Just drop it."

Derek held up his hands and took a few steps back. "Okay. Okay. Consider it dropped."

He had no idea that Emily would be this touchy about Declan. He had thought with Doyle dead she would be more open with her relationship with the boy; that they would no longer have to keep their visits a secret. Declan was now safe from his father. Derek was actually looking forward to meeting this boy who was an important part of his partner's life. For now he would drop the subject and wait for her to cool off and judging from how angry Emily was right now, it might be a long time.

She glowered at him for a minute before resuming her trek to the parking lot.

"I'm sorry, Emily. It was not my intention to upset you," he said in apology, matching her stride. When she didn't respond he continued. "Let me make it up to you by driving you home."

Emily glanced sideways at him then let out a deep breath. "Fine."

"Good," he said in relief and gestured to her left. "My truck is parked over there."

She veered in that direction. Derek unlocked the truck by remote and by the time he had the driver's door open, Emily had climbed into the passenger seat. She had the seatbelt buckled and was staring moodily out the windshield. Derek shook his head as he pulled out of the parking space. She was really pissed at him.

* * *

They drove in an uneasy silence for several miles before Emily started paying attention to the scenery. She turned to him frowning. "This isn't the way to Rossi's."

"I know but I need to swing by one of my properties real fast. The new roof was installed today. I hope you don't mind."

"Well I don't have much of a choice now, do I?" she groused. "I wish you had told me before I got into your truck. I would have just called that cab."

"I'm sorry," he apologized to her for the second time in less than hour.

Emily stared out the window some more. Since she was now stuck with him she might as well make the most of it. "Where is this property?" she asked, just to be polite.

"Dupont Circle."

Her eyebrows rose. "Nice neighborhood, but pricey."

Derek glanced at her, glad that she was talking to him again. "I know, but it was in bad shape so I got it for a song."

"Nice," she said with a nod. She kept it to herself that she was a little curious about his piece of property. This was the first time he had ever taken her, though unwillingly, to one of his works in progress.

Minutes later they rolled to a stop in front of a sad looking Victorian row house. Emily cringed at the sight of its exterior. Someone had painted over the red brick, which she could see peeking through, with a hideous shade of yellow. Derek laughed at her reaction. "Horrible isn't it? I plan on removing it."

"Good," she said, still staring at the building. Besides the horrid color it did have some charm.

Derek got out of the truck and poked his head back in. "Do you want to wait out here or come in and look around?"

She sighed and opened the door. "I guess I'll come in. I don't want to sit around in the car especially if you are going to be gone a long time."

"Great." He trotted around the truck and waited for Emily by the gate in the wrought iron fence than enclosed the row house's weed choke front garden. "Once the paint comes off, all the architectural design in the brickwork will stand out," he said as he led the way up the cracked sidewalk to the steps that had railings also made from the same material as the fence. At the top was an oak door painted puke green.

"Someone had lousy taste in colors," Emily commented as they mounted the stairs.

Derek chuckled as he unlocked the door. "It doesn't get any better inside."

The oak door groaned ominously as it swung open. Emily found herself standing in a small foyer. Directly in front of them was the stairs leading to the second floor. To the left was a doorway and running along the length of the stairway was a narrow hallway that probably led to the back of the house.

"Feel free to wander around while I check out the new roof," Derek said as he started up the stairs. "Oh. The floors are solid so you don't have to worry about falling though."

Emily nodded. "Good to know," she said and stepped through the doorway. "Must be the parlor," she observed, taking in the Victorian style wallpaper peeling off the walls.

Not bad, she thought. It had a nice alcove in the front with large windows on all three sides. They would probably let in a lot of natural light if they weren't so covered in grim. She looked up at the intricate crown molding encompassing the room and then went over to inspect the fireplace that the previous owner had stuck a space heater into. Emily wondered if the fireplace still worked and if it used wood or gas.

She left the parlor and walked down the hallway, pausing to open the doors along the way. One tucked under the stairs revealed a cramp half bath and the other one led to the dining room. She continued on and stepped into a seventies style kitchen complete with scratched and dented Formica countertops. Yuck was all she could think of to describe it. Emily wandered over to the back door and used her good hand to wipe away the dirt on one pane of glass so that she could look out. The row house had a nice size back garden that was paved with bricks, many of them cracked, and a there was a wooden deck that sloped precariously to one side.

The empty space started to creak and groan. Emily guessed that it was Derek coming back down the stairs. Quickly she made her way back to the front of the building and found her partner leaning against the newel, arms casually crossed, wearing a peculiar look on his face that she had never seen before. He looked like the cat that had just swallowed the canary, feathers and all.

"Well? What do you think?"

Emily gazed around again and shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. "It has potential but it is going to need a lot of work. A lot."

Derek's face broke into a grin. "I was hoping you would say that."

Emily turned to him puzzled. Then he did something out of character for him. He started shifting nervously on his feet. If she didn't know him like she did could have sworn that he looked like he was about to ask her out on a date, which was preposterous. She loved him like a brother and he always treated her like she was one of his many sisters. They were the best of friends.

He cleared his throat. "Emily? I have a confession to make."

_Uh oh_, she thought.

"This is the reason I followed you to Declan's game. I wanted to show you this place, but you hightailed out of the BAU so fast I didn't get a chance to ask."

Now Emily was totally confused and she said so. "Derek, I don't understand."

"You've been saying that you were having a tough time finding an apartment that felt right to you."

"I have," she agreed, not sure where he was going with this.

"Have you thought of something more permanent? A place of your own where you can put down roots?" he asked.

She stared at him perplexed then it hit her. "You think I should live here?" she asked incredulously.

"I do," he said with a nod. "You can buy it from me at the price I originally paid or if that doesn't work for you, we could set up some sort of payment system. I would still get to fix it up. You would get free labor and only have to pay for supplies."

Emily was at a loss for words. "Why?" she finally got out.

Derek sobered and looked down at the scarred pine floor. "You remember when I first mentioned my properties? That I needed to rip up floors and tear down walls to feel like I am accomplishing something?"

"I do," she said softly.

"I needed that feeling more than even after you died." Guilt flashed across her face. "About a month after your funeral I stumbled across this place. I took one look and it screamed at me: you. So I bought it and planned to fix it up in the way you would have liked. It was going to be a tribute to my best friend, a labor of love. Now I have a chance to do it for real."

"Oh, Derek. I don't know what to say." Emily shifted uncomfortably. "I really appreciate the offer but I just can't buy a house at the drop of a hat. It's something that needs to be considered carefully."

"Emily, I don't expect you to give me an answer right now. I just want you to think about it. Would you?"

"I will," she agreed, gazing back around.

Derek smiled to himself. He could tell already that his friend was looking at the place in a whole different light.

* * *

The two friends were in the basement discussing if there was a fireplace hidden behind a wall when one of their phones went off.

"Damn," Derek swore, pulling his off his belt and reading the text message. "Hotch wants me back at the BAU. Goodbye weekend."

Emily checked her phone to see if she was included. Since returning to work two weeks ago she had been restricted to desk duty until she was cleared to return to the field. She had a feeling that it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. In the meantime she would continue to sit in on the case reviews and help the team from the conference room when they were away. She sighed when she saw there wasn't a message waiting for her.

"Guess it is just you," she said, shoving the phone back into the jacket's pocket.

"I can drop you off at Rossi's on my way back," he offered.

"That would be out of your way," she said with a shake of her head. "I'll just ride back with you."

"You sure? Hotch can wait while I take you home."

"Positive." Emily shrugged. "It's not like I have a hot date lined up for this evening."

Derek chuckled. "Why don't I be your hot date? Let me take you out to dinner as an apology for pissing you off earlier about Declan."

Emily pretended to give him the once over as they exited the row house and walked back to the truck. "I guess you'll have to do in a pinch."

He grinned as he held open the passenger door. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes," she said as she climbed in. Emily waited for Derek to hop into the driver's seat. "At least until a hotter guy comes along and then you're history," she teased, snapping her fingers.

Derek winked at her. "That ain't going to happen, sweet cheeks. There is no one hotter than me." He laughed and Emily groaned as he put the truck into gear and pointed it to the BAU.

* * *

Emily settled at her desk while Derek continued on to the Unit Chief's office. He paused to rap his knuckles on the open door. "You wanted to see me, Hotch?"

"I did," Hotch said, looking up from his paperwork. He gestured to the chairs arranged in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

The black agent dropped into the nearest chair and looked expectantly at his boss. Hotch pushed a file over the surface of the desk. Derek picked it up and started flipping through its pages.

"St. Paul, Minnesota," Hotch began, "is in the process of neighborhood revitalization by tearing down abandoned houses. Workers yesterday found this in the attic of one of the homes they were prepping for demolition." He produced a picture of a body wrapped in plastic.

"They're calling us for one body?" Derek asked with a frown.

"No," he answered. "They're calling us in for these." He spread more photos over the desk. "The body count is up to six."

Derek's eyebrows rose as he studied the photographs. "They were hidden all over the place. In the attic, the basement, the walls, and buried in the yard." He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Does the coroner know yet how long the bodies have been there?"

Hotch shook his head. "No. Preliminary findings show that some have been there for several years. They won't know for sure until the official autopsies are started."

"What do they want us to do?"

Hotch collected the pictures back into a tidy pile. "This is basically a consultation. Go and view the bodies and the crime scene. Interview the victim's families and build a profile that the locals can use to find the killer."

Derek sighed. "That's a lot for me to do alone," he pointed out.

"Take Prentiss with you."

He blinked at that and glanced out over the bullpen where his partner sat with her feet up on her desk reading. Emily had slipped her arm out of the sling to make holding the book easier, exposing the black lace-up brace on her wrist. "Has she been…" he started to ask.

"Yes. The paperwork came through after everyone had left," Hotch said.

"Emily will be happy to hear that. She's been itching to get back out in the field with us though she won't admit it if asked."

Hotch folded his hands on top of the desk blotter. "Morgan, in addition to delivering the profile, I will need you to evaluate Prentiss' performance during the consultation."

The black agent leaned forward in his chair. "Why? She seems to be doing just fine."

Hotch nodded in agreement. "Yes she is here in the office, but I need to know if Prentiss is physically and mentally ready for the field. If not, I will keep her here for a few more weeks and then try again."

Derek sighed. He didn't like the idea of spying on his friend and partner but he could see where Hotch was coming from. If one member was not fit for duty then the whole team could be put in jeopardy. "I understand and I'll do it."

"Good," Hotch said with a nod.

He fully understood that he had put Morgan in a difficult position. If he had tried to observe Emily in the field, she would have sensed it and would have become guarded in her words and actions. She didn't trust him at the moment. With Morgan, she would be more relaxed and less vigilant, allowing him to get a better read.

"Prentiss will have a few restrictions," Hotch informed him and the two men spent the next several minutes going over them. When done he said, "I'll call her and give her the good news."

Derek smiled and jerked his head at the door. "Actually you don't have to. Emily's out in the bullpen."

The Unit Chief turned to looked out the office window and was surprised to see her there, fully engrossed in her book. "Well, that does make it easier. Morgan, can you send her in?"

"Sure," Derek said. He hopped to his feet and made his way back to Emily's desk. He tapped her boots with one hand. She jumped slightly and gave him a dirty look. He ignored it and said, "The boss man wants to see you."

Emily dropped her feet to the floor and warily looked at Hotch's office. "What for?" she asked.

He shrugged noncommittally. "You'll just have to go in and find out for yourself," he answered cryptically. "I'll be in my office picking up a few things. Have fun."

She shot another dirty look at his departing back before turning her attention back to Hotch. "What does he want to see me for?" she mused aloud.

Had she somehow managed to get into trouble for something at work when she wasn't at work? Or was he going to attempt to justify his decision to take away her life without her consent again? At that thought she felt her indignation rise. He knew the subject was off limits, that she never wanted to talk about it or hear his excuses.

When Hotch appeared in the window of his office looking for her, she knew she couldn't put off talking to him any longer. Emily slipped her arm back into its sling and clamped down on the anger simmering just below the surface. Dropping the mask of indifference over her face, she mounted the steps and stopped just inside of his door. "Morgan said you wanted to talk to me?"

He turned from the window. "I did. Please come in."

"I'm fine where I am."

He glanced sharply at her. Why was she on edge? A moment ago she had been relaxed. Now she looked like she was armed and bristling for battle. Then it occurred to him that Emily must have thought he wanted to discuss his actions seven months ago. Well, what he had to tell her should put her in a more comfortable frame of mind. Hotch stepped over to his desk and casually leaned against it, hoping it would put her at ease.

"I've received your medical report from your doctor. You'll be pleased to know that Dr. Barrett has cleared you for flying and limited field duty," he informed her.

Emily kept a straight face but the tension in her shoulders eased now that she knew the conservation was work related. "That is good to hear."

"Tomorrow Morgan is flying to St. Paul, Minnesota on a consultation and you will be accompanying him. But as I said before it is limited field duty so there will be a few restrictions. You will be unable to participate in any takedowns of the unsub, you must have one of us with you at all times, and you haven't been cleared to drive. Otherwise you can conduct interviews, visit the crime scene, and view the bodies at the morgue. Do you agree to these terms?"

"Absolutely." Right now she would agree to almost anything to get back in the field.

Hotch pushed off the desk and went over to her. He smiled and touched her lightly on the sling-supported elbow. "It's good to have you back full time."

She returned his smile. "Thanks, Hotch."

He went back around his desk and sat down. "Have a safe flight and try to stay out of trouble," he said with a straight face.

"Will do," she said with a grin.

Keeping her emotions in check, Emily walked sedately to her desk, scooping up her jacket. She headed out of the BAU in search of her ride home. Once through the doors she glanced up and down the hallway to see that she was alone. Only then she let her joy out and did an enthusiastic arm pump. "Yes!"

* * *

_There you go! The first chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it. Now don't forget to tell me what you think. Until next week._

_Oh, there are only a few days left to vote for your favorite stories nominated for this years Profilers Choice Awards. Go check it out, there are a lot of good stories there._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for the nice initial reaction to this new story. I hope I can keep you entertained for its entire run. _

_On another note, I want to thank everyone who voted for my two stories (Into Thin Air and Second Chances) for this years Profiler Choice Awards. i was stunned beyond belief when they both won in their respective categories. I'm honored that you thought my writing was worthy of the votes. Actually I'm still stunned and happy. Thank you again._

* * *

"This is so weird," Emily commented the next morning.

Derek glanced up from his electronic tablet. "What is?"

"Just the two of us on the jet," she said, settling into the seat across from him and stowing her briefcase on the empty seat next to her. "No jockeying with everyone for the best seats."

"You always manage to beat Reid to the window seat," he pointed out.

"That's because he barely weighs over a hundred pounds soaking wet, so it's easy to elbow him out of the way," she said with a grin.

Derek chuckled as he looked at his watch. "I thought you would have been here sooner."

Emily decided that she wanted a bottle of water before take off, so she got back up and headed for the kitchenette. "So did I," she agreed as she bent over to snag a bottle out of the mini fridge. "But at the last minute, Dave went all parental on me."

"How so?"

She sat back down. "He had to double check that I had everything I needed for the case. It felt like he was getting ready to put me on the bus for my first day of kindergarten."

He laughed. "You can't blame the man. He has been watching out for you the last two months."

Emily slowly turned the bottle of water in circle and gave him a half smile. "That was the polite way to say that Dave took care of me for two months and is still doing so."

"Yeah, I guess it was but it is still true."

The pilot came over the speaker to announce that they will be taking off in five minutes and to please buckle their seatbelts. Emily took off the sling and dropped it on top of her briefcase so that she could use both hands to buckle her belt. Once she had it low and tight in her lap, she made no effort to put the sling back on.

Derek arched a concerned eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to wear that during the day?"

"I am," she said, picking up the bottle and easily unscrewing the cap without the sling hindering her movement. "But I'm just going to be sitting around on the jet for a couple of hours, doing absolutely nothing, so what's the harm? Besides I'm tired of wearing the damn thing. I've been stuck in one version or another of it for the past two and a half months."

"Well that happens when you let yourself get shot in the shoulder and break your collarbone," he lightly teased.

"Let myself be shot?" she exclaimed, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. "You make it sound like I volunteered to be the target for target practice." She sounded miffed.

Derek thought he had pissed her off and was about to apologize when he caught the merriment dancing in her eyes. She was pulling his leg. How he had missed her funny and odd, at times, sense of humor over those long and difficult five months she was gone. And he was still missing it. Since she has been back, Emily was more reserved, rarely laughing and never teasing. She was probably afraid of offending them while she struggled to regain their trust. But he had noticed when she had finally returned to work; it was slowly emerging as she got settled in.

He grinned and pointed a finger at her. "Okay, but you better be wearing it when we get off the plane or I'll rat you out to your doctor."

Her eyes grew wide. "You wouldn't!"

He waggled his eyebrows. "Try me."

Emily grinned and gave him a mock salute. "You got it."

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. "Smartass."

"Yup," she agreed, taking a sip of water. "So what is the consultation about?"

Derek slid his electronic tablet across the table. Emily picked it up and started scrolling through the screens while listening to him run over the major highlights of the case.

"Just the six bodies?" she asked when he was done.

"As of last night," he said with a shrug. "They're going over the place with a fine tooth comb as we speak. For all we know, they might have found more."

Emily nodded and continued scrolling. "Do they believe the house is the original crime scene or simply a dump site?"

Another shrug. "Unknown. They were well into the demolition when the first body was discovered. By then any evidence that might have been there had been either destroyed or lost."

"And they believe the bodies have been there for quite awhile? None of them were fresh kills?" She set the tablet down and picked up the water bottle.

"None," he confirmed.

Emily leaned back in the seat and took another sip. "Not much to work with, is there?"

"Nope," Derek said, folding his hands in his lap. "That's why it is a consult. We're to poke around a little and give them a preliminary profile to work from."

She set the bottle back on the table and mimicked his position. "Their killer could be dead, in jail or has moved away. They may never find him."

"That's very possible," he admitted. "All we can do is to give them the best profile we can. From there on, it's up to the St. Paul police department."

Emily nodded and looked out the window of the jet at the passing clouds. "So what's first on our agenda?"

"I think we should meet with Detective Nyland and find out if they have discovered anything new. After that we can head to the crime scene or the morgue," he decided.

"Sounds good to me."

He watched as she absently scratched around the edges of the black lace up brace on her right wrist. "So how does it feel to be back in the field?"

She turned back to him and smiled. "I don't know yet. So far, I've only made it onto the jet. Ask me tomorrow."

Derek laughed. "You got it."

Her smiled faded, as her face grew serious. "Did Hotch tell you about the restrictions I have?"

"He did," Derek confirmed with a nod. "But I don't think we'll have any trouble with them. First of all, there's only the two of us so we'll always be together so that takes care of you always having to have one of us with you. Secondly, this is a consult so there won't be any takedowns that you can't participate in. And finally about you not being allowed to drive. It's a moot point anyways because I always drive."

Her smile returned. "Looks like you have it all figured out."

He grinned. "I do."

Emily chuckled, raising an eyebrow before she looked back down at the tablet. "I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting trip."

* * *

As promised, Emily had the sling back on when the jet landed. But it was hard to tell since she was bundled up in a warm coat. When they had left DC it was a balmy 50 degrees. St. Paul, on the other hand, was caught in the middle of a cold snap and predictions abounded that it could snow at any time.

Derek watched with interest as she buttoned up the coat with one hand. Emily looked up and smiled self-consciously when she caught him at it. "I've gotten pretty good at doing things with only my left hand," she explained. "Except for three things."

"What are those?"

"Putting my hair up in a ponytail, tying my shoes and putting on gloves."

He chuckled. "Is that a subtle hint that you need a little help?" he asked, pleased to see that she was asking for help. The Emily of old never would have asked, her trust issues would have prevented her.

"Maybe," she hedged with a smile and removed the glove from her coat pocket.

"I'll take that as a yes." Derek took the glove and held it so she could slide her hand in, feeling a bit like a scrub nurse helping the surgeon glove up.

"I would put it on first with my right hand free but then I found I had problems with buttoning up the coat. The glove made handling the buttons difficult," she said, wriggling her fingers to settle the glove on her hand.

"No problem. I'm glad I could help."

Emily nodded her thanks and slung the strap of her briefcase over her good shoulder. When she reached for the handle of her go bag, her hand encountered Derek's. She tensed and narrowed her eyes in warning, indicating that she was quite capable of carrying her own bag. Derek quickly withdrew the offending hand, realizing his error in assuming that just because she had needed a little help with one thing didn't automatically mean she needed help with everything. Properly chastised, he grabbed his bags and followed his now silent partner off the jet and over to the SUV the local office had dropped off. As he buckled his seatbelt, Derek hoped he hadn't pissed her off, something he seemed to be unintentionally doing regularly these last couple of days. But when Emily glanced at him and grinned, he knew they were good.

* * *

The detective in charge was waiting for them at the conference table. He stood up and held out his hand to Derek. "Detective Jonas Nyland," he introduced himself with a smile.

Derek shook hands with him. "SSA Derek Morgan," he said then nodded to Emily. "And my partner SSA Emily Prentiss."

"Agents Morgan and Prentiss," he acknowledged and automatically extended his right hand to Emily who was in the process of unbuttoning her coat. When he caught glimpse of the sling, he switched hands. "May I ask what happened?"

Emily smiled politely as they shook hands. "Broken collarbone," she said, keeping it concise. She took that moment to give him a quick look over. Judging from the last name, the blonde hair and the blue eyes, the detective was a direct descendent of one of the many Scandinavians who had settled in Minnesota.

"Bummer," he said in sympathy. Now that he wasn't shaking hands with anyone, he didn't know what to do with them. So he stuck them in his pants pockets. "Let me say I'm both surprised and pleased that the two of you came all this way on a consult."

Derek shrugged. "It's a unique situation that the reports and photographs don't do justice to. We just want to get the lay of the land."

Emily nodded in agreement. "We'll interview the victim's families, visit the crime scene and view the remains that have been recovered so far."

"All of that will help us build a more accurate profile that will hopefully lead you and your men to the killer. It's the best we can do."

Nyland smiled in relief. "We'll take any help we can get. We've never seen anything like this before. Yes, over the years we have found badly decomposed and mummified bodies but not so many at one time," he said with a sad shake of his head.

"You have six bodies so far?" she asked as she consulted the tablet she had pulled out of her briefcase. "Two were found in the basement, two in the walls, one in the attic and one in the backyard I believe."

"Yes at the time I asked for the consultation. Since then we have recovered three more," he revealed.

Derek and Emily stared at him in surprise. "Where?" the dark agent asked.

"One more in the basement. The others were in the yard."

"And their condition?" Emily inquired.

"Just like the others. They were in various levels of decay and wrapped in plastic." The two agents nodded. "Do you want to view the bodies first?"

Derek shook his head. "Not yet. We would like go to the crime scene to see where it all started."

* * *

"Not the best of neighborhoods but I've seen a lot worse," Emily commented as she and Derek climbed out of the SUV.

"Same here," Derek agreed, walking around the front of the car and joining her on the sidewalk. "Nyland said this area was hit hard by the collapse of the housing market. Many homeowners suddenly found themselves owing more money than the house was worth. Some just gave up and walked away."

Detective Nyland had wanted to accompany them but Emily had been able to persuade him to remain behind, stating that they needed to view the scene with unbiased eyes. Then they would compare notes and see if they had come to the same conclusions.

"And in moved the gangs and drug dealers," she said wryly.

"Which lowered the property values even further."

Emily nodded then gestured with her good hand. "But take a good look around you. The residents are slowly taking their neighborhood back. Many of the houses are well taken care of, the abandoned homes are being torn down and the empty lots are being turned into community gardens. And it seems that they formed a neighborhood watch," she said, pointing out the sign nailed to the telephone pole.

"Good for them. So shall we go look inside?" he asked.

"Let's," she agreed.

They turned and looked at the dilapidated two-story house surrounded by a high chain linked fence. Its empty windows stared mournfully down at them as if it was begging them to find the one who had defiled its grounds. Derek and Emily flashed their credentials at the cop on duty at the gate. He nodded and let them past. As they mounted the sagging steps, Derek noted that most of the house's aluminum siding was missing, probably taken by metal scavengers long before the demolition had started. He was willing to bet a month's salary that all of the copper piping and water heater were long gone.

"Not much to look at," Emily noted, gazing at the holes in the walls and ceiling. "I can see why it took so long for someone to find the bodies."

Derek grunted. "Because they were afraid the place would collapse on their heads the moment they set foot inside."

"Exactly. And the UnSub knew that. He had the perfect place to kill his victims."

"Do you remember what rooms the bodies in the walls were found in?" Derek asked, wandering over to peek into one of the holes in the walls.

"Umm…" Emily said, biting her lip thoughtfully. "One was found here in the living room. The other was in the dining room. Why?"

He fingered the chipping plaster. "The hole isn't that big so he would have to shove them in."

Emily frowned. "I'm not following you."

"He had to hold on to them until after rigor mortis had passed."

Her face lit up when she caught on to what he was saying. "This isn't the original crime scene but his dump site. He couldn't afford the chance of getting caught sitting around while waiting for rigor to pass."

"Right. He has a more secluded location to do his killing then he dumps the remains outside of his comfort zone so that they can't be traced back to him."

Emily made a face. "Risky driving around with a dead body in the car."

Derek nodded. "It is but he succeeded nine times."

"Ten."

The agents turned to the two men wearing white coveralls and plastic booties over their shoes coming down the stairs. Between them, they carried a black body bag.

"Where did you find it?" Derek asked as Emily sadly shook her head at the thought of another life cut short.

"In the attic. The crime scene techs are still up there if you want to take a look," the man who had spoken before said. He didn't bother asking for their Id's, automatically assuming they were law enforcement judging from their posture and the fact that the cop on duty wouldn't have let them in if they weren't.

"Thanks," he said.

The two men nodded and silently carried their grisly find out the door and over to the waiting van.

"We should get Garcia to check out the homeowners," Emily said when they were alone again. "They could be involved this. Perhaps turning a blind eye while handing over the key to the UnSub. Or they are the ones who did the killings."

"Good idea." Derek pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for his favorite technical analyst.

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said cheerfully when she picked up. "Could you –"

"_About time you called,"_ Penelope interrupted. _"Are you taking good care of our wounded warrior? Do you remember what we talked about before you left? That you need to be there for her but don't let her know that you are. You know how Emily can be—"_

Derek rolled his eyes heavenward and Emily let out a soft snort. Repressing a chuckle, he said, "You're on speaker and she is standing right here."

Silence came over the line. _"Oh,"_ she finally said. Both smiled knowing that she was straightening her workspace to cover her embarrassment.

Penelope quickly recovered. _"What does my Dynamic Duo need?"_

"We need to know who owns this property." Derek held the phone closer to Emily as she rattled off the address.

"_Uno momento,"_ she said, typing away. _"Here we go. A Barry and Jean Sisko owned it before the bank foreclosed on the property. Seems both were laid off from their respective jobs and when they couldn't make the mortgage payments, they just left."_

"How long ago?" Emily asked.

"_Six years."_

"Can you see if you can track them down?" Derek asked.

"Your wish is my command. Check this bat channel later for the latest news. Garcia out."

The two shook their heads in amusement as he put the phone away. "Maybe we should remind Hotch that it might be time again to have her drug tested," she suggested with a half smile.

"I think he did it last month," he joked with a smile. It quickly faded when he turned his mind back to the task at hand. "We should finish touring the house."

Emily sighed in agreement. "Yes, though I don't think it is going to tell us anything more than what we already know."

"And what is that."

"That it is going to get a lot worse."

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed that. Had to get down to the nitty gritty of the consult/case. Do come back next week to see what is next. But before you go, don't forget to let me know what you think. Until then._


	3. Chapter 3

_Happy holidays to everyone. Yes I know that I'm a day early but with Wednesday being Christmas, I decided to post today. I didn't want to intrude on your holidays. So here is my present to you. Enoy._

* * *

This I did not miss," Emily commented as they exited the SUV in front of the city morgue. "The combined smells of decaying flesh, blood and bleach. It stays with you."

Derek paused with his hand on the door handle. "If you want to sit this out, I can view the bodies by myself," he volunteered.

Emily stiffened at his suggestion. "Don't coddle me, Morgan," she said in a low voice, eyes flashing with indignation. "Just because I've been away from the job for seven months, doesn't mean I can no longer do it."

"I didn't mean to imply—"

"I was just saying its one aspect of the job I don't like."

"I'm sorry, Emily," he apologized, once again putting his foot in his mouth.

She nodded and pushed by him. "Lets get this over with," she said and disappeared inside.

Derek stared at the spot his partner had just vacated. He had to remember to keep reminding himself that this was a different Emily than the one he was use to working with. Doyle had changed her and she was still trying to discover her new self. But then Doyle had changed everyone on the team. He believed he was now more protective of her than ever. _How could I not be after she almost died in my arms,_ he thought. He sighed and ran a hand over his head. He wouldn't stop being over protective of her. He just had to make sure she didn't know he was doing it.

* * *

"What do we have?" Emily asked when the coroner joined them a few minutes later.

The gray haired, pencil thin man sighed and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He gazed sadly over the six sheet covered bodies lying side by side on their individual gurneys. "Ten lives cut too short," he mumbled more to himself. "I haven't had a chance to autopsy the four bodies found today yet."

"That's okay," Derek said as he and Emily spread out and started to look under the sheets.

The Coroner sighed again and crossed his arms. "Like you know, there are a total of ten bodies, all in various stages of decay. Obviously the ones found in the walls and in the attic are in better shape than the ones that were buried in the basement and yard."

"I take it that they are all women?" Emily inquired as she moved from one body to the next.

"Yes. They range from their early twenties to late thirties."

"Have you determined yet how they died?"

"They were stabbed multiple times through the heart though the actual number varied from body to body."

"Were they sexually assaulted?" Derek asked, raising the sheet and grimacing slightly at the state of the body.

The Coroner turned his attention to the dark agent. "Yes. Again multiple times."

Derek nodded and as he started to replace the sheet, something caught his eye. He paused and leaned in to get a closer look. "What is this on her chest?"

The Coroner didn't even have to look to know what Derek was referring to. "It's a brand. He branded them with what looks like the letter 'A'."

Derek's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Like the scarlet letter?"

"I guess," the doctor said with a shrug.

Derek turned to get Emily's opinion and found his partner frozen in place, eyes glued on the brand. Her good hand was raised and seemed to be protecting her left breast. He frowned at her odd gesture.

"Prentiss?" he called out as he straightened up. When she didn't respond, he moved to her side and touched her lightly on the arm, worry etched on his face. "Emily?" he said softly.

Emily started at his touch. She turned to him and he caught the barest of a glimpse of fear as it flickered across her face. "Huh?" she asked.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes dropping briefly to her hand still resting on her chest.

Feeling self conscious, she dropped her hand to her side. "I'm fine," she said and shot him a look telling him to back off.

He gazed at her and she returned the look with unwavering eyes. He broke eye contact and nodded once. The Coroner watched their exchange in silence. "Do you agents have any more questions for me? I still have to autopsy the four remaining bodies."

"Yes," Emily said, pointedly ignoring the worried look Derek kept casting her way. She wished he would stop scrutinizing her and focus on the case. "How long have they been dead?"

"Between two to four years."

"So none of them were fresh kills?"

"None."

Emily nodded. The two agents asked a few more questions before heading back to the police station. They drove in silence for a couple of miles. Derek watched Emily out of the corner of his eye as she unconsciously rubbed the scar on her stomach while she stared out the window. It was obvious to him that she was still rattled about what had happened in the morgue. The brand had triggered some bad memory for her. _But what could it be,_ he thought to himself.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel in anger when a horrifying thought occurred to him. Had Doyle branded her? If he had, that would explain her reaction. Unfortunately he would never know for sure. All files pertaining to Doyle were classified, including all the injuries Emily had sustained at his hands and he didn't have the clearance to access them. Derek's only other source of what had gone down in that warehouse was sitting next to him and Emily still refused to talk about that night.

"Do you want to talk about what happened back there?" he asked, hoping she finally trusted him enough to confide in him.

"No," she said flatly, never looking away from the window. She rubbed at the scar a little harder.

He wasn't surprised by her curt answer. "If you change your mind, I'm here for you," he offered while making a mental note of her new tell.

Her only acknowledgement of his words was a small nod of the head. Derek sighed again. He had done all he could do. He had put out the invitation and left the door open for her. It was up to Emily to accept it and come inside.

* * *

When they got back to the police station, it was business as usual. Derek tracked down Detective Nyland, who was working on another case, and asked if he could pull up the missing persons reports for the past five years.

"Sure. It shouldn't be a problem," the detective said. "I can have them ready for you first thing in the morning."

"That will be fine," Derek agreed and rejoined Emily at the table.

They spent the next half hour reviewing all of the coroner's reports. Derek sat back in the chair and ran a hand over his face. "So lets build a preliminary profile."

Emily nodded and took a sip of water. "Our UnSub is definitely a non preferential rapist. The victim's ages vary and they have different eye and hair color. He likes to target high-risk women. The six bodies all tested positive for drugs and I'm willing to bet the other four will too. They probably were all drug users."

"We don't know that yet," he countered. "He may have drugged them to make them more pliable. We won't know for sure until the bodies have been identified and we get access to their life history."

"True."

"He's probably around the same age as his victims but I'm leaning toward him being in his thirties. I have a hard time seeing the older victims going anywhere with a younger man."

"He could look older than he is," Emily pointed out, enjoying the chance to counter one of his theories.

"Also true."

Emily finished off the last of her water. "The last kill took place at least two years ago. He could be in jail, dead, stopped or had simply moved away. I noticed when we were at the crime scene that there was a neighborhood watch sign. I wonder when it was started."

Derek stopped a passing officer and asked if she could find out. The cop returned a few minutes to tell them that the neighborhood watch was formed two years ago.

"That's why it stopped," Emily observed, idly playing with the empty bottle. "It became too dangerous to dump the bodies at the current location so he might have moved on to another one."

"So not a comforting thought," Derek said, wondering how many more bodies that were out there waiting to be discovered.

"I know," she agreed with a rueful smile.

Derek shuffled through the photos and pulled out the one that was a close up of the brand. He held in up for her to see, curious to how Emily would react to it. "What does the 'A' mean?"

Emily didn't blink an eye at it, leading Derek to believe that she had locked away her earlier reaction in one of her many mental boxes. She cocked her head to one side as she studied it.

"The most obvious answer would be that it stands for adultery like in the Scarlet Letter but it could mean anything. Only the UnSub knows."

He dropped the photo on the table. "But why brand them if he was going to kill them anyways?"

Emily locked eyes with him. "Because he wanted them to know that they belonged to him before they died."

And Derek now had his answer. Doyle had left his best friend with one more permanent reminder of his cruelness.

* * *

The two agents decided to call it a night after rehashing the same material for over an hour and coming to the same conclusions. Emily suggested that things might look different in the morning, especially if they get the Ids on some of the bodies. Derek wholeheartedly agreed.

"So what do you want to do first? Go to the hotel and check in or get a bite to eat?" he asked as they climbed into the SUV.

"Food first. I'm starving," Emily said, buckling her seatbelt. "I'm surprised you haven't heard my stomach growling."

"I did," he said with a grin as he steered the car on to the street. "But I'm too much of a gentleman to mention it."

Emily let out a soft laugh. "Your mama raised you well."

"Yup."

They drove around for a little bit before they found a respectable looking restaurant. Once they were seated at their table, Emily shrugged off her coat and took off the sling. Derek arched an eyebrow.

Emily shot him a look, daring him to say anything. "Have you ever tried to eat with your non dominant hand for two months?" she asked, defending her action. He shook his head. "Trust me, it isn't easy."

Derek held up his hands in surrender. "You'll get no argument from me."

"Smart move," she said with a grin. "Now lets order before I decide to eat the menu."

He chuckled and the two turned their attention to the menu. After placing their orders, Derek rested his elbows on the table. "Emily, I just want to apologize again for bringing up Declan. It wasn't my aim to upset you."

Emily made a dismissive wave with her hand. "Don't worry about it. It's already forgotten."

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. He could let it go at that but it still bothered him why she was so adamantly against speaking to the boy. "Can I ask you a question?" he ventured.

She paused in unwrapping her utensils. "Sure."

"I'm just curious to know why you don't want to have any contact with Declan? He seems like a great kid."

Emily sighed and focused on placing the napkin in her lap and lining up the silverware in their proper order on the table. She didn't want to talk about Declan. What she wanted to do was to tell him to mind his own damn business. She was about to tell him to do exactly that when she remembered the jab he had taken at her months ago about her inability to trust people. She sighed again and picked at an imaginary piece of lint on the tablecloth.

"If I tell you, will you promise to drop the subject for good?" she asked quietly.

"Promise."

She nodded and took a deep breath. Looking up, she locked eyes with him. "The other day was the first time I have laid eyes on Declan in over seven years," she confessed. "The last time I actually talked to him was after I had finished taking the photos of his fake death."

"That's a long time," he said softly.

"It is but it was necessary. To protect him from his father's enemies and my superiors, I had to sever all contact with him. By now Declan shouldn't remember anything about his short time with Lauren Reynolds."

"Is that a good thing?'

"It is," she said with a nod and let her gaze drift to a spot over his shoulder.

Derek sighed at her logic. "But Doyle is dead so there is no need to stay away," he countered. "Have you considered asking his father to introduce you as an old friend from college? That way you'll get a chance to get to know him."

Emily vehemently shook her head. "No. I can't take the risk that my appearance may trigger some unwanted memories."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Yes," she said. "I prefer that his life remain untainted by my deception and his father's terrorist activities." She unconsciously began to scratch along the edges of the lace up wrist brace. "No child should be saddled with the sins of their father and those associated with him."

"No they shouldn't," he agreed.

He wanted to reach across the table to still her hand but he knew the touch would be unwelcome. Emily's reasoning seemed sound but he felt she was making the wrong decision. He debated if he should tell her that, knowing it wouldn't go down well with her so he put himself in her shoes. _Would I want to know even if it was painful to hear? Yes, especially if it was coming from my best friend_, he decided.

Derek folded his hands on the table. "Don't get mad at me, Emily, but I think you're making a mistake staying out of Declan's life." Her eyes snapped up and narrowed with anger.

He held up a hand to forestall her from taking his head off. "Hear me out before you tear me a new one." She closed her mouth and nodded.

"I just don't think it the best thing for you. It is obvious that you care deeply for him. I would even say that you love him. You never would have done what you did if you hadn't loved him."

Emily clamped down on her anger. What he had said was true but she wasn't going to let him know that. Declan had a big piece of her heart. "What is best for me doesn't matter, Derek," she said softly. "What does matter to me is Declan's happiness. I just want him to be happy and to have the chance to grow up to be whatever he wants to be. And now he is."

The waiter showed up with their meals, prompting the two to fall silent. When he left, Emily said in a pained voice, "Can we just drop the subject and enjoy our dinners?"

"Sure," he agreed and picked up his fork.

Emily nodded her thanks and turned her focus to her meal. As they ate, Derek cast surreptitious glances at her but she kept her eyes on her food. He knew that he had promised not to mention Declan again, but it was looking like it was a promise he was going to break. Even though Emily wouldn't admit it, she needed that boy in her life.

* * *

"So I'll ask you again, how does it feel to be back in the field?" Derek asked as they rode the elevator up to their rooms. After a rather tense start to their dinner, the two friends gradually relaxed and were soon discussing the books they had read lately.

Emily gave him a smile. "It feels good. Real good. I'm glad it's just a consult. It's allowing me to knock the rust off of my profiling skills before jumping into a full blown case."

"You've been helping us with our cases since you came back," he pointed out.

The doors opened and they stepped out onto their floor. "Yes I have but there is a big difference between doing it from the round table room and witnessing it all first hand."

"Very true," Derek agreed as they stopped outside of their respective rooms. He jerked a thumb at his door. "Want to come over and watch a movie after you get settled?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I think I'll read for a while and then call it a night. Thanks for the offer."

"No problem. See you downstairs at eight for breakfast?"

"I'll be there. Night, Derek."

"Night, Emily. Don't let the bed bugs bite," he said with a wink.

"Yeah right," she said, making a face at him.

Chuckling, the dark agent disappeared into his hotel room. Shaking her head in amusement, Emily inserted the keycard into the lock and stepped into hers. She flipped on the overhead light, turned to the lock the door and put the security chain in place. She walked down the short hallway and into the main room.

"Reminds me of my old apartment in Paris but much nicer," she mused as she looked around.

Emily dropped her briefcase on the desk and her bag on the luggage stand. She then proceeded to unpack, laying out what she was going to wear tomorrow. Since it was supposed to be very cold, she chose her grey stewart scotch plaid shirt to be worn under her heather gray button up fisherman's sweater. Both would go nicely with her black wool pants. With tomorrow taken care of, Emily got ready for bed.

It was only after she had throw back the covers and had sat on the bed with one of her many books, that Emily realized how quiet the room was. This was the first time since she had come back home that she was completely on her own. Even when Dave was off on a case, she wasn't truly alone. She knew he would be back and Mudgie had been constantly at her side. But now she was without their comforting presence and she suddenly felt vulnerable.

The paranoia that had plagued her during most of her recovery came thundering back to the forefront. Emily no longer felt safe. It didn't matter that Derek was across the hall and the door was secured by lock and chain. It wasn't enough for her comfort. Emily got up and checked the windows and was relieved to see that they couldn't be opened so she knew an attack wouldn't come from that direction. That left the door. She grabbed the desk chair and jammed it under the doorknob. Slowly she backed away, only pausing long enough to turn on the bathroom light so that she could see the intruder before he could see her.

Once she was back in bed, Emily sat the book unread on the nightstand. She drew her weapon and turned off the light. Nestling back against the pillows, she kept her eyes glued on the dimly illuminated hallway. Eventually the comforting weight of the gun in her hand and the long day lulled Emily into a restless sleep.

* * *

_Looks like Emily is developing some kinks in her protective armor. Will it continue to affect her during the case? Looks like you will have to check back to find out. Please let me know what you think. Hearing from you motivates me to write more. So everyone have a wonderful holiday and I'll see you next week._


	4. Chapter 4

_Happy new year, everyone! Hope all is. Thanks for the nice reviews and l look forward to see more. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

_Click!_

_Emily sucked in her breath when the sound of the hammer being cocked echoed in her ears. She tried not to wince, as the muzzle of the gun was pressed harder into her temple._

"_Any final wishes before I put an end to your miserable life?" Ian Doyle taunted._

"_Can I see where they died?" she asked in a whisper, staring straight ahead._

_She held her breath as a deafening silence swallowed her words. Was he going to honor her request or blow her brains out on the spot? She closed her eyes and waited for the bullet to tear through her flesh. Her two major regrets were that she hadn't the chance to say goodbye and tell them how sorry she was._

_The sound of the hammer being released brought her back to reality. Emily released the breath she was holding and reopened her eyes._

"_You're about to get your wish," he growled, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and hauling her unceremoniously to her feet._

_Spinning her around, he made sure her hands were still securely cuffed behind her. He placed his hand on her back and shoved her toward the door. Emily stumbled and fell to her knees…in the snow. She blinked in surprise. How did she get outside? Before she had a chance to figure it out, Doyle had her back on her feet and was dragging her up the rickety steps of an abandoned house._

"_I told you what would happen if you got your team involved in our business," he said as he guided her into the dining room. "Take a good look at what you have done."_

_When Emily refused to, he slapped her hard across the face. "Look!" he ordered._

_Slowly she opened her eyes and looked down at the two bodies sprawled on the threadbare carpet. She bit back a cry of despair. Hotch, his body riddled with bullets, was lying on top of Jack. A desperate and in the end, a futile attempt to save his son. The little boy had the stuffed otter she had gotten him at the zoo clutched in his dead arms. Yanking on her cuffs, Doyle steered her to the living room where the next macabre scene waited for her. JJ and Will were seated on a broken down couch. The blonde had her arms around Henry who was seated between them. It would have felt so domestic if it weren't for the crimson blood coating their chests from their slit throats._

_The grisly tour continued. Doyle showed Reid lying in a bathtub filled with his own blood that was still leaking from the multiple stab wounds. In an upstairs bedroom, Penelope laid on a rotting mattress. Her purple skirt was hitched to her waist and an angry red line from the garrote encircled her neck. Up in the attic, Dave hung from the rafters, his body slowly twisting in the gentle breeze. _

_Each death tore a hole in her heart, that by the time they reached Derek's final resting place, the tears were coursing down her cheeks. Her partner leaned drunkenly against the kitchen cabinets, a single bullet hole marring his forehead. His dead, brown eyes bore into hers, demanding to know why she had let this happen._

"_Derek, I'm so sorry," she sobbed._

"_It's a bit late for that, Luv," he whispered in her ear as he propelled her down the cellar stairs._

_In the center of the earthen floor was a hole that was big enough to be a grave. Emily knew she wasn't leaving this room. Doyle forced her to kneel in front of it._

"_It's time for you to join your friends," he said and pulled out his gun._

_Emily straightened her shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Just get it over with," she said in a surprisingly steady voice._

"_With pleasure. But I'm afraid I'm not the one who is going to put you down."_

_Emily's forehead creased in confusion as he silently held out the weapon. A shadow detached from the far wall and stepped into the weak light. Her eyes widened in recognition and a small gasp escaped her lips._

"_Declan," she breathed in disbelief._

_The boy moved to his father's side and solemnly took the gun. Doyle smiled proudly down at his son. "This is your first step in becoming a warrior."_

_Emily looked at the boy with pleading eyes. "Declan, please don't," she begged._

"_Hold the gun with both hands," Doyle instructed. "That's it."_

"_I was only trying to protect you." Tears were running down her cheeks._

"_Don't pull the trigger, squeeze it."_

"_Declan," Emily's voice cracked with despair. "All I wanted was for you to have a chance to grow up to be whatever you wanted to be."_

"_Hold it steady and aim for the space between the eyes."_

"_Please, don't do it," she cried. "I love you." She let out a deep sob._

Declan looked at her with cold eyes, his father's cold eyes. "This is your punishment for ripping me away from my Father and my inheritance. Goodbye, Lauren," he said and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

"No!" Emily gasped, bolting upright in bed.

With wild and frightened eyes, she frantically scanned the semi dark room. It took a moment for her panicked mind to recognize that she was in her hotel room and not at the crime scene's abandoned house. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to regain her composure, but it felt like she was dying. She couldn't breathe, it was coming out in ragged breaths. Her heart felt like it was ready to burst out of her chest and she could hear the roaring of her blood in her ears. And she couldn't stop the shaking.

Suddenly her stomach turned. Emily stumbled to bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up last night's dinner. When done, she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth with the back of one shaky hand. _Shit,_ she thought. _I haven't had this bad of a nightmare since that night I had held Dave at gunpoint._ It was then she realized she still had her gun clutched in her right hand. She stood on trembling legs and set the Glock down on the countertop. She turned on the faucet and stuck her hands under the water. First she rinsed out her mouth then splashed cold water on her face.

Leaning both hands on the counter, Emily stared in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at her. Her hair was in disarray, stray tendrils matted to her damp forehead. But it was her eyes that captured her attention. They were haunted and red rimmed, indicating that at some point during the nightmare she had been crying. No longer able to look at herself, Emily pushed away from the sink but not before grabbing her gun.

Back in the main room, Emily did what she always did when she woke from a disturbing dream; she started pacing. Back and forth she went; from window to door and back again, each lap more frenetic than the previous. Soon it felt like the walls of the hotel room were closing in on her and she had to get out. Emily tucked the gun in the waistband of her pajamas, moved the desk chair and stepped into the hallway.

She glanced briefly at Derek's door as she exited. Two doors down she stopped, turned around and went back. Derek had told her, his door was always open if she wanted to talk. She stared at the door then slowly raised her hand to knock. Just before her knuckles grazed the wood, she froze. It didn't seem fair that she should dump her troubles on him when she hadn't confided in Dave whenever she had a bad one. Emily sighed and touched the door with her fingertips then walked away.

Emily haunted the corridors and lobby of the hotel. She started at the top and worked her way down to the lobby. She ended up using the stairs when she found she couldn't stand still long enough to use the elevator. When she had first entered the lobby, the staff on duty had tried to approach her to see if they could offer her any assistance. They were a bit concerned because she only had on her pajamas, having forgotten to don a robe and slippers before fleeing her room. After she had shot them a look of warning, they had wisely left her alone, blissfully unaware that she was packing heat. On her second visit to the lobby, she spent some time there gazing out a window into the night watching wet, fat snowflakes covering the parked cars. After four long hours of wandering, exhaustion finally drove Emily back to her room. She barricaded the door then collapsed on the bed, falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

Knock! Knock!

The loud noise jarred Emily awake. In an instance she was on her feet, gun drawn, wary eyes scanning the room. It took her a second to realize she was in her hotel room and that it was no longer dark. Morning had come. She sighed in relief and lowered the weapon. Finally her horrible night was over. Now she had to figure out if she had actually heard knocking. Emily cocked her head to one side and listened intently. When she didn't hear anything but the clicking of the heat, she decided it was just another figment of her over stimulated imagination. She turned back to the bed, thinking she might get a few more hours of useful sleep before she had to get up and meet Derek for breakfast.

Knock! Knock!

Emily spun and pointed the Glock at the door. With narrowed eyes, she cautiously approached. Just as she was about to look through the peephole to see who it was, she was blindsided by a horrible memory. In her mind she saw her friend Tsia lying dead from a bullet to the brain after looking through a similar peephole. Unnerved by the image, she quickly backed away.

From the safety of the bathroom doorway, she called out, "Who is it?"

On the other side of the door, Derek's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He glanced around the empty corridor before answering. "Uh…it's me, Derek."

"Give me a minute."

"Okay." He took a step back and then frowned when he heard odd noises coming from her room. _What is she doing in there,_ he wondered. _It sounds like she is moving furniture._

A minute later the door swung open. He was startled, though he didn't let it show, by the woman standing in front of him. Emily's body was stiff with tension, her dark brown eyes were tired and wary and she held one hand conspicuously behind her back.

"What do you want?" she asked rather brusquely.

Derek didn't react to her tone of voice. Instead, he flashed her one of his disarming smiles. "Well, we did agree to meet for breakfast at eight o'clock. And now it's a little past eight thirty."

Emily's eyes widened in shock and she glanced over her shoulder back at the nightstand. She wondered if she had slept through the alarm or had forgotten to set it. Either way, she was now late.

"I'm so sorry, Derek," she apologized. "I must have forgotten to set my alarm before going to bed."

"It's not a problem."

She held the door open wider. "Come on in. I'll just need ten minutes to get ready."

As he stepped in, he caught a brief glimpse of the gun before she hid it under her pajama top. Pretending not to notice, he ran his hand over the top of the desk chair and wondered why it was in the hall.

Keeping her back to the wall, Emily scooped up the clothes she had laid out the night before. "Give me a few," she repeated and quickly retreated to the safety of the bathroom.

"Take all the time you need," he called after her. "We're in no hurry."

He grinned when her couldn't understand her muffled reply. While he waited for Emily to get ready, Derek wandered over to the bed. He noted the sheets and the blanket were twisted together in a knot and one pillow lay on the floor. _She must have had a rough night, _he mused as he picked it up and put it back on the bed. He spotted the book she had left on the nightstand and leaned over to read the title. It sounded interesting so he picked it up to read the inside flap of the dust jacket. When he opened it, three photographs fell out.

He looked at the photos on the floor for a second before bending down to retrieve them. He had every intention of putting them back, sight unseen, but curiosity got the best of him. He flipped the first one over. It was of a blonde girl around the age of ten. She was dressed in her riding habit and was urging a black and white horse over a low jump. The other two were of a red headed teenager. One showed him wearing his graduation cap and gown and the other in a baseball uniform. Someone had captured him in mid throw, leaping over the runner sliding into the base. He peered closer at the faces. Both seemed familiar to him but he couldn't place them. He may not know them personally but it was obvious Emily did and that they were somehow important to her. Important enough for her to carry their pictures with her even if she kept them hidden inside a book.

The click of the bathroom door lock told him Emily was done. Derek tucked the photos into the book and put it back where he had found it. When he turned around, Emily had donned her profiler persona. The wary and brusque woman from earlier was almost completely gone, but he could still see a flicker of her in his friend's dark brown eyes.

He grinned. "You're looking fine, girl," he said in appreciation.

Emily rolled her eyes at his cockiness. "Yeah right," she said as she dropped her pajamas on top of her go bag. "Are we going straight from breakfast to the police station?"

"Yes."

"I'll grab my coat then."

"And your sling" he said, nodding at the unflattering piece of cloth that lay abandoned next to the briefcase.

She sighed and went to get the offending sling. "Happy now?" she asked after she had put it on.

"Deliriously so," he teased and laughed at the dirty look she had thrown his way. He was still chuckling as they walked to the elevator.

* * *

Emily was quiet through breakfast and most of the car ride, answering any questions Derek had tossed her way with one or two words. Every now and then she would reach up and rub at her bad shoulder.

Derek glanced over at her. "Is your collarbone bothering you?"

"Just slept on it wrong," she lied and dropped her hand into her lap. She then tried to unobtrusively roll her shoulder in an attempt to ease the tension in her body that was making the bone ache.

He nodded, not believing her for a minute. As he drove, he let his mind drift back to his discovery in her hotel room. He gripped the steering wheel, twisting his hands on the molded plastic as his mind fought a battle not to pry. His curiosity was getting the better of him and he sat in debate about whether it was the right time to ask.

The woman next to him was full of surprises, and he never felt he would fully know her. Declan was the only child he had come across to be in her life, or was in her life. The pictures that had fallen out of her book nagged him. Where they of other children she had taken under her wing? Or had saved? Or were they simply of family, cousins perhaps? The questions buzzed in his head like a swarm of angry bees and he had to know. He hazarded another glance to the brunette.

Emily sensed he was watching her. She returned the look and saw his curious eyes. "What?" She asked, her brows narrowing.

"It's nothing. Just…" he paused, but couldn't hold it back. "I didn't know you were in contact with any family."

"Huh?" she asked, completely confused to his comments.

"I saw the pictures. I wasn't snooping, I promise," he said quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "They had fallen out of your book when I had picked it up to read the summary." Embarrassment flashed over his face.

"Oh," she said and turned to look out the side window.

Derek mentally kicked himself for bringing it up. He had upset her again. He knew better and yet he had ignored it. Emily was still emotionally vulnerable. And instead of giving her the room and time to heal and repair her walls, here he was prying into her personal life. Emily stared out the window for so long that he was pretty sure she wasn't going to answer and he silently vowed to make it up to her. So he was surprised when she did.

"The little girl on the horse is Allie Sutton," she said quietly.

His eyebrows shot up and his mind flashed back four years ago to those nerve-shattering days when a madman had held Emily captive and in chains at his cabin in the Vermont woods.

He found his voice. "Umm…I thought you requested that Allie wasn't to contact you?"

She turned to look at him, a small smile on her lips. "I did and she hasn't."

"Then how—"

"Her Aunt Carol sends me a letter once a year telling me what has been going on in Allie's life. She usually includes a picture."

"That's nice of her."

Emily nodded in agreement. "It is. The first time I got a letter, I had a hard time deciding if I should open it. The wounds from those long days were still raw then."

_I hear you,_ Derek silently agreed. Just thinking about it now made his blood boil and brought back the guilt of not protecting her better.

"But now I look forward to them even though I know that they will eventually stop one day," she said with a resigned smile.

"You don't know that for sure, Emily," he pointed out. "How is Allie doing?"

Her smile got a little brighter. "She's doing great; happy and well adjusted. She's a straight 'A' student and, as you can see from the photo, she's still horse crazy."

"That's great." He took his eyes off the road for a moment. "Now who is the teenager? He looks familiar."

"He should," she said with a soft chuckle. "Remember when I broke my ankle taking down an UnSub?"

Derek chuckled at the memory. "That was one butt ugly takedown."

"So you keep saying. And you remember the case I got involved in afterwards?"

His eyes lit up in recognition. "I do. His name is Gus."

"Russ," she corrected.

"Right. Have you stayed in contact with him?" he asked in curiosity. Odds were that if she hadn't wanted contact with Allie and Declan, she would have done the same with Russ.

She surprised him for a second time. "Yes," she admitted and let her eyes drift back out the window. "I sort of had to. Like Allie, he lived with his aunt but there is where the similarity ended. Whereas Allie's aunt is warm and caring, his is cold and indifferent. I felt that he needed one adult in his life who was interested in him."

Derek nodded. That was so Emily. Looking out for the needs of others before looking after hers. He loved her more for that. "Since one picture seems to be of his graduation, he must be seventeen or eighteen now."

"Eighteen. He's a freshman at Georgetown on a full baseball scholarship," she said with a proud smile.

He grinned at the motherly pride in her voice and he wondered if she even realized she was doing it. "That explains the other picture," he said.

"Yeah. It was taken at this years division 3 state championship game."

Derek watched the bright smile dim and a wistful look come to her eyes. It was then that he realized the truth behind her sadness. She had been in forced exile in Paris when the graduation and the game had occurred. That had to have been hard for her to miss and he felt her pain.

"Emily, I'm so sorry," he said aloud.

Emily turned to him with a frown marring her forehead. "There's no need to apologize for finding the pictures, Derek. I'm not mad at you."

"No, I'm sorry that you missed two important events in Russ' life," he said softly. "It had to been hard for you."

She quickly looked away and shrugged. "It was no big deal," she lied, the guilt she felt every time she thought about it, washed over her.

Again he knew she was lying to cover the hurt, and probably the guilt, she was feeling. He let it go and asked instead, "Have you always carried pictures of them?"

She shook her head as she looked back at him. "No. After Doyle, I decided I needed a reminder of some of the good I've done."

* * *

_That was one nasty nightmare, wasn't it? It was tough to write. Now don't forget to let me know what you think. Feedback helps me to make my stories better. See ya'll next week. Until then._


	5. Chapter 5

_Welcome back, everyone. A big thanks to all of you who are sticking with this story. This is the first case fic I have written that doesn't revolve around the main characters. It's been hard and I'm sure it is probably not my best but it is a learning experience. And learning is a good thing. I put a lot of thought into it (as I do with all my stories) and then pray it turns out well...lol. Now go read and hopefully enjoy._

* * *

"Sorry to drag the two of you back here. But I thought you would like to view the last four bodies," the Coroner explained as he led the two agents to the autopsy room.

"Not a problem," Derek said.

They had received the call just as they were pulling into a parking space behind the police station. After hanging up, Derek had thrown the SUV into reverse and drove with post haste to the city morgue.

"Same results as before?" Emily asked as she made her way to the first gurney and looked under the sheet.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "All in varying degrees of decay, multiple stab wounds, repeated sexual assault and the branding. But." He held up a finger as both agents looked at him expectantly.

The Coroner moved over to the last gurney and pulled back the sheet, exposing the decomposing corpse. "This one here is a little different."

"How so?" Derek asked, stepping up to the body with Emily at his side.

"This one was more mutilated than the others. In addition to the stab wounds to the heart, there are ones to the abdomen and face. She also sustained fractures to the arms and legs."

Derek let out a low whistle. "This looks like overkill," he said, leaning for a closer look at the wounds. "They're blows of anger."

Emily nodded in agreement. "Definitely. I would say judging from the severity of the injuries, this poor woman was our UnSub's stressor."

"Where was this body found?" Derek asked.

"Up in the attic, buried in the chimney," the Coroner said after he consulted the chart.

Derek straightened in surprise. "Did you say inside the chimney? Are you sure you don't mean it was found next to it?"

"I'm positive."

Emily frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"The body was found in the chimney. That meant he had to remove the bricks and then replace them after he had put the body in it," he explained.

Her eyes brightened in understanding. "The other bodies were hastily hidden indicating that he didn't really care if they were found. This one he took his time in concealing."

The dark agent nodded. "Exactly."

Emily smiled grimly. "We need to find out who she is."

/

Detective Nyland met them at the door and fell into step. "I got those missing persons reports you requested. I'm afraid there's quite a lot of them."

Emily nodded. "It's not a problem. We're use to shifting through tons of paper, Detective."

"Good." He handed her a piece of paper. "We also were able to identify the first six victims. We're still waiting for confirmation on the other four."

"That is good news," Derek said. "Did you pull their files?"

"Yes. They're on the conference room's table with the missing persons reports."

"Thanks."

"No problem. If you have any more questions, you know where to find me," Nyland said and left them at the door to the conference room.

"Anything of interest?" Derek asked her as he shed his jacket and gloves.

Emily had laid the paper on the table so that her good hand was free. She used her teeth to pull off the glove then proceeded to unbutton her coat. The entire time she had her eyes glued to the report.

"We have one common denominator," she announced, dropping her coat over the back of a chair.

"What is it?" He settled into the nearest chair and pulled the pile of files closer.

"They were all drug addicts," she revealed.

Derek nodded. "You were right." She grinned at him. He picked up half of the missing persons reports and passed them to her. "It's a starting point. We can use it to weed out the ones that weren't."

"Works for me," Emily said and flipped open the top file.

In no time, the two had made short work of the pile and were able to trim their potential victims down to a more manageable list. Then they started over with the remaining files, slowly reviewing the contents. Due to her lack of sleep, Emily found that she was easily irritated. With each file she looked at, the angrier she got. She couldn't believe how thin they were and the lack of detail in them.

"I don't know why you're bothering to look for the guy who offed those crack heads," an officer callously remarked from the doorway. "It's one less deadbeat draining our time and money. We've got real people out there needing our help."

That was the last straw. Emily surged to her feet, murderous rage burning in her eyes. Derek, startled by her reaction, shoved his chair back and got to his feet. He stared worriedly at his partner. Normally she let those kinds of comments wash right over her, but not this time. She spun around, good hand clenching into a tight fist. Just as she was about to raise it and wipe the conceited smirk off his face, Emily suddenly felt the room closing in on her. She couldn't breathe and she had to get out before she suffocated.

With her hand still clenched at her side, Emily pushed by the officer. "Excuse me," she said curtly.

The officer watched her storm away before turning his smirk on Derek. "That girl needs a Midol."

Derek held his tongue just long enough to corral his overflowing thoughts and to control his roaring anger to the man's jaded mentality.

"How dare you." Derek said, squaring himself with the man that just started a battle with the wrong people.

"Excuse me?" The officer challenged back.

"I get that the job gets draining and you see the same shit over and over again. It's vicious cycle, but these are human beings that have just as much right to be here as you and I." Derek pointed to the pile of files on the table before he continued. "Just because you wear a badge doesn't make you better than any one. It's a symbol of protection for these poor souls that need it. Disregarding them is as bad as being the one that has harmed them. You got me, officer?"

"Yes, Sir," he growled.

"And one more thing," Derek said before he dismissed him. "Don't ever talk about my partner like that."

"Oh look at you big, bad protector," he retorted with a smirk.

Derek felt his blood boil over but held his composure. He got in the man's face. "The only protecting I'm doing is for you. If she had heard you, you'd be limping home, lucky ever to think about having kids. Now get out of my sight."

The man stood speechless, and like a wounded dog nodded and cowered away.

/

Having a good idea where Emily might have gone, Derek grabbed their coats and hurried after her. His hunch proved to be correct. He found her furiously pacing outside among the parked cars and the falling snow. She had her good arm wrapped around her body for warmth and protection. Snow dusted her shoulders and hair and her breath came out in white puffs.

"Geez, Prentiss, planning on freezing your ass off?" he teased as he walked up to her and dropped her coat over her shoulders. "Baby Girl will have my ass if I let you get sick."

She opened to her mouth to retort but nothing came out, she was just too furious to talk. Instead, she resumed her pacing, only to be jerked to a stop by Derek.

"Hold still," he ordered, trying to button up her coat. He really didn't want her to catch pneumonia. Before letting her go, he shoved the knit hat that he found in her coat pocket on her head.

Derek's unwanted fussing over her gave her time to calm down enough to find her voice. "Did you see those files, Morgan?" she asked in irritation and gestured at the police station.

He started to say yes but he never got the chance as she continued to rant. "There's nothing in them except the initial missing persons report. There isn't a single damn sign of any follow up. The families of these missing women obviously were worried enough about them to go to the police. But what do the cops do?" she demanded, glaring at him. "They don't do a damn thing to find them."

Derek was stunned by her outburst. Normally, Emily kept her emotions under tight control while on a case. The only way to tell if she was angry was when she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly and tightened her jaw. Now he could literally feel the anger emanating off her, her brown eyes nearly black with it. It was obvious to him that her ability to compartmentalize had been severely compromised and had yet to return to the high levels it had been at before her fateful encounter with Doyle. Now he had to make a decision. _Should I try to defuse the situation or just let her get it out of her system?_ In the end, he chose to let her vent.

Emily had worn a path in the newly fallen snow from her pacing. "If they had been doing their fucking jobs, some of these women wouldn't have fallen into the hands of our UnSub. They would still be alive today."

Derek couldn't agree with her more. He had basically said the same thing to Detective Benning from Detroit after what they had uncovered at Mason Turner's farm.

"If most of the cops are like that asshole in there, they aren't going to spend their oh so precious time looking for a bunch of deadbeats." She glared at the building.

"You know, Prentiss, I'm proud of you at this moment," Derek announced when she had paused to catch her breath.

That stopped Emily in her snowy tracks. She turned to him in confusion. "What?"

His comment had its desired effect. Derek could see some of her anger dissipating. "I said I'm proud of you. You could have physically and verbally attacked that idiot and possibly gotten us tossed off the case." He didn't tell her that he had done it for her. "But in the end you didn't."

"Instead you reined in your temper, held your tongue and walked away."

Now feeling embarrassed at her behavior, Emily looked down and dug the toe of one boot into a clump of snow. "I wanted to," she admitted. "I was just so angry at the lack of progress I was seeing." She kicked at little harder at the clump and watched it crumble.

She looked up at him. "I guess I still am."

"That's understandable. I'm not happy with the lack of results either. Those women deserved more," he said with a nod. He began to shift from foot to foot as the cold began to penetrate his coat. "You ready to go back in?"

Emily looked up into the snow filled sky and slowly shook her head. "Not yet. I need some more time. Okay?"

"Okay." Derek pulled up the collar on his coat. "Just don't stay out here too long. You'll turn into a Prentiss-icle."

She groaned at his pun. "Cute."

"Yes, I am," he said with a cocky grin.

/

Once he was back within the warm confines of the police station, Derek watched through the icy window as his partner continued her pacing. She definitely wasn't having a good morning. And it was probably a continuation of her rough night. When he had been in her hotel room earlier, he had already deduced that at some point during the night she had a bad nightmare. Now he wondered how much sleep she had actually gotten after it. Judging from her uncharacteristic flash of anger, it hadn't been much.

He wanted to help her but was at a loss how. Talking about it was out of the question. Any mention of nightmares would have her retreating into herself and shutting him down. Then a thought occurred to him. He could try to cheer her up and he knew just how to it. But he was going to need some help from a certain somebody.

Derek turned his back on the door and pulled out his phone. "Hey, Baby Girl, I need you to work some magic for me."

/

Detective Nyland was waiting for him in the conference room. "Agent Morgan, I would like to apologize for Officer Cruz. I overhead the whole incident and his comments were uncalled for. I have already brought the issue to the attention of our captain and appropriate action has been taken. He had been reassigned."

"Good," Derek said as he took off his coat.

Nyland nodded. "If you hadn't gotten in his face, I would have. Cruz has been warned before to watch his mouth," he said with a snort of disgust.

"Well he was damn lucky Prentiss hadn't heard his last comment. Broken collarbone or not, she would have slugged him."

The detective couldn't help but grin. "I would have loved to have seen that. Though," he added with a wink. "If Agent Prentiss actually had, I wouldn't have witnessed it since I would have been too busy studying my shoes."

Derek grinned. Nyland had just told him that no one would have cared if Emily had flattened him. Cruz must not be well liked. The detective paused in the doorway. "By the way, how is Agent Prentiss?"

"She's fine," Derek said, resuming his seat. "She's just getting some fresh air."

"Isn't it a tad cold for that?"

Derek shrugged and picked up a file. "She likes the snow," he said vaguely.

Detective Nyland took the hint and departed. A half hour later Emily returned. She was chilled to the bone and her cheeks and nose were red from the cold. But she had her professional mask back on.

He arched an eyebrow. "You good?" he asked as she shed her snow soaked knit hat and coat.

"I'm good," she said.

And to prove her point, she refrained from rubbing her collarbone that was once again aching from the stress. A sharp pain in the pit of her stomach told her that her ulcer was going to start acting up if she didn't relax. Emily took a deep breath and slowly released it before going back to her source of irritation: the too thin missing persons files.

After a few minutes, she looked at her friend. "Derek?"

He glanced up. "Yes?"

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"Always," he said, returning the smile.

/

They spent the next two hours shifting through the files and pulling out the ones that looked like possible candidates. Then they went through them again to further narrow down their list of potential victims. Eventually they had seven possible identities for the four remaining bodies. Derek leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. He grunted in relief when he heard his back crack. Across the table, Emily stifled a yawn and rubbed at her tired eyes.

"That was fun but at least we now have seven possible ids for the other bodies," she said, wishing for the umpteenth time that her ulcer hadn't forced her to give up coffee. Right now she could drink the whole pot.

"It's a step in the right direction," Derek agreed and stretched again. He glanced around at the gray nondescript walls. "I could use a change of scenery. What about you?"

Emily shoved all thoughts of coffee off to one side. "I could."

"Great," he said and stood up, reaching for his coat. "Let's go interview the families of these seven missing women. Maybe we can find another link besides the drug use angle."

"Sounds good to me," she said as she stood up and put her still damp coat back on. After she had buttoned it up, Emily let Derek help her to get her glove on. "Are we going to visit the families of our known victims?" she asked.

"We will after Detective Nyland does the death notifications."

She nodded agreement as she scooped up the seven files. "Lets get this show on the road before they get impassable. When I was coming back in, the snow had started to come down harder."

Emily definitely needed a change of scenery. Even though she had taken control of her wild emotions, a tedious hold at best, the conference room was still stifling. Her day had gotten off to a bad start and then it had gone steadily downhill since then. It had to get better, didn't it?

* * *

_Can Emily's day get any worse? If you want to know, ya'll have to come back next week and see. And as always, let me know what you think. Until then._


	6. Chapter 6

_Welcome back, everyone. I'm glad you are enjoying the story. Like I said before it has been a fun learning experience. Now go read._

* * *

"Who's first on our list?" Derek asked after he had climbed in the SUV and buckled up. He had just spent the last fifteen minutes out in the cold, cleaning off the car while Emily sat inside, basking in the heat coming from the vents.

She flipped open the top file. While Derek had been scraping the windows and grumbling about the ice, she had taken that time to organize the files.

"Mitchell Greene. His sister Marcia was one of the earliest to be reported missing." She leaned over and programmed the address in the GPS.

"Okay," he agreed. Derek threw the SUV into four-wheel drive and crept out of the snow-clogged parking lot and on to the freshly plowed street.

"It's a shame you've got a bad wing. Otherwise we could go skiing after this consult is over." He glanced at her. "You do know how to ski, don't you?"

"I do."

"I figured you did. I figured the odds were good that your grandfather would have taught you when you were visiting him in the Alps."

"He did. But it was cross country skiing, not downhill," she smiled fondly, remembering the first time he had strapped the skis on her feet and how she kept toppling over until she had learned to maintain her balance. The two of them had laughed the entire time.

"He used them to get to town and back in the winter. Otherwise, I have no desire to throw myself down the side of a mountain at reckless speeds on two pieces of wood." She gave a small shudder.

Derek chuckled. "Not your type of adrenaline rush, huh?"

"No. But if you really want to go, I'll tag along," she said with a twinkle in her eyes and a mischievous grin on her face. "I can hang out at the ski lodge, sipping hot chocolate while chatting with the even hotter skiing instructor. In the meantime, you can be up on the slopes giddily pursuing every snow bunny that swooshes across your path."

"Giddily?" he asked, raising both eyebrows.

"Enthusiastically?" she countered.

He scrunched up his face. "Well…maybe."

"Single mindedly?"

"I think I'll stick with enthusiastic," he decided.

Emily laughed and he quickly joined in. _It was good to hear her really laugh_, he thought. _Not the fake laugh to fit in but one that came from deep within._

* * *

They were still laughing and taking about skiing when they pulled up in front of Mitchell Greene's single story house. The man in question was out shoveling snow. He paused and leaned on the shovel, watching as they got out of the SUV and made their way up the partially cleared sidewalk.

He blinked in surprise when they flashed their credentials at him. "FBI?" he echoed, eyebrows disappearing under the Minnesota Vikings knit cap. "Really?"

"Yes," Emily said, tucking her badge away. "Mr. Greene, we would like to ask you a few questions about your sister Marcia."

A sad and distant look came to his eyes. "Have you found her?" he asked softly.

"We're not sure," Derek said. "Can we go inside and talk?" He gestured at the house.

"Of course." He led them through the garage to a small mudroom where they knocked the snow off their boots and dusted off their coats.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Hot coffee, perhaps?" he offered as he showed them to the kitchen.

"No thank you," Emily politely declined for both of them. She sat down at the table while Derek stood behind her.

Mitchell Greene poured himself a cup of coffee then slowly sank into a chair as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug but he didn't take a drink.

"What's going on?" he finally asked.

Derek quickly brought him up to speed on the investigation, omitting several details that he thought the brother didn't need to hear just yet: the conditions of the bodies and how they were found.

Greene sighed and stared out at the falling snow. "So you think my sister might be one of those bodies you found?"

"It's possible, Mr. Greene," Emily said gently. "What can you tell us about your sister?"

He scrubbed his face with one hand. "Marcia is…was my half sister. She was ten years younger than me and somewhat of a wild child. She was heavy into drugs so she was always getting into trouble. I don't know how many times my parents bailed her out of jail. I just know it was a lot."

"Was Marcia prone to disappearing for days on end?" she asked.

"Yes. That's why we weren't too worried at first. She was always running off with some druggie boyfriend."

"And she always came back?" Derek inquired.

"Yes until the last time. When she didn't come back after a week, I had my parents file the missing persons report."

His comment that he had his parents contact the police intrigued Emily. "Weren't you concerned?" she asked.

He transferred his gaze to her. "I was but I really wasn't surprised when it happened. Marcia had been saying for a couple of months that she wanted to get the hell out of town. I just figured she had finally done it."

Both agents nodded. They asked him a few more questions to fill in Marcia's background before excusing themselves. They left Mitchell Greene sitting at his kitchen table, cold coffee in hand, staring blindly out the window.

* * *

Their next stop didn't go as well. Alice Smith's father refused to let them on the porch, forcing them to conduct the very short interview from the snow-covered walk. He stood at the top of the steps barring the way up with his body. His arms were crossed and he glared defiantly down at them.

Mr. Smith had only one thing to say about his daughter. "Good riddance. She was nothing but trouble from the day she was born."

The two agents glanced at each other with suspicion then turned and headed back to the car, pausing just long enough the brush the snow off their coats.

"Please tell me we're going to take a closer look at him," Emily asked after they were back in the still warm SUV. She could see through the window that Mr. Smith hadn't budged one inch from his post.

Derek drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Most definitely. Judging from his temper, he could have easily caused the injuries to the bodies." He grunted in disgust then backed out of the driveway, ready to head to their next interview.

* * *

The welcome they received at Shirley Decker's home was the complete opposite of the one they had gotten at the Smith's. Mrs. Decker had ushered them inside and plied them with hot chocolate and cookies. Only then did she sit down on the edge of the couch next to her husband and began to worry the hankie in her hands.

Emily gladly accepted the mug and took a slow, long sip. She immediately felt its soothing warmth spreading throughout her body, chasing the chill that had settled into her bones from her unplanned time spent out in the snow. She couldn't stop herself from letting out a soft, contented sigh. This was how she liked her hot chocolate, made with rich chocolate and milk, not water, and marshmallows.

"Do you like it?" Mrs. Decker asked nervously.

"I do very much," she said with a smile. "Do I detect a hint of nutmeg and peppermint?"

Mrs. Decker visibly relaxed. "Yes to both. I always made it for Shirley and her sister after they had come in from playing outside in the snow for hours." She smiled sadly at the memory.

Both agents could see that the Decker's were heartbroken over the disappearance of their youngest daughter. Derek nodded to Emily, indicating that she should take the lead since she had made small connection with the wife. Emily took another sip of the delicious beverage then rested the mug on her knee, letting the heat warm her fingers.

"Mrs. Decker, tell us about your daughter. What was she like as a child?" she asked, hoping to put the couple more at ease.

She smiled fondly. "She was such a wonderful child, so outgoing and polite. She always made me laugh with her silly jokes. And then…" she trailed off, unable to continue.

"Then what?" Emily gently prompted.

Mr. Decker reached over and took his wife's hand in his. He gave it a comforting squeeze and she smiled back gratefully. He cleared his throat and continued for her.

"Then in high school she started hanging around with the wrong kids. Her grades plummeted and then she started cutting school and doing drugs."

"Was it her habit to stay away from home for long periods of time?"

"Yes. But she always came back. Usually when she was hungry or needed money probably for more drugs."

"We tried to get her to go to rehab but she refused. Shirley kept insisting she wasn't an addict," Mrs. Decker spoke up. "We really tried." She dabbed at her eyes with the hankie.

Emily nodded that she understood. After a few more questions, the two retreated to the SUV. Derek started the car and was about to put it into gear when he noticed her staring out the window with a pensive look on her face.

He put it back into park and shifted in his seat so that he could see her. He rested his arm on the back of his seat. "What's up?"

She sighed and gestured to the house they had just left. "I've been in their shoes."

"Matthew?" he guessed.

"Yeah," she said softly, watching the falling snowflakes melt when they hit the windshield. "It's my fault that Matthew started using. Like them, I tried to help him but he wouldn't let me. Eventually I gave up and we drifted apart."

He followed her gaze and said, "You can't help an addict until they admit to themselves that they are."

"I know. But it was still hard to watch." Emily sighed again.

Derek remained silent, knowing there was nothing he could say that would change how she felt. "So who is next?" he asked, changing the subject and giving her an out.

Emily shook her head slightly to collect herself then picked up the next file and opened it. "Diane Felderstein."

* * *

A half-hour later Derek and Emily were seated at the bar inside the establishment Diane Felderstein's uncle owned. They watched in silence as he wiped down the already pristine surface. He eventually filled them in about Diane's childhood and that she had been working at the bar before her disappearance.

"Did you know that she had a drug problem?" Derek asked.

He nodded slowly. "I had my suspicions but she always came to work sober. I think she was doing the drugs to escape what was going on at home."

"What did you think when she didn't show for work the day she disappeared?" Emily asked.

He paused in his wiping. "I figured she got fed up and high tailed it out of here."

Derek and Emily exchanged glances. That was the second time today they had heard that one of the potential victims wanted to get the heck out of Dodge. They may have stumbled upon a second link between the victims. They both made mental notes to see if any of the identified murdered women had expressed that particular view.

Derek glanced around the sparsely occupied bar. "Did you happen to notice if there were any customers who were paying too much attention to Diane?"

The Uncle started to say no but stopped. He dropped the towel and leaned both hands on the bar. "There was this one guy." He paused as he searched his memory. "Curtis Blakemore was his name. He was a regular here for a while."

"Was? He no longer is?" Emily questioned.

"No. Come to think of it, he stopped showing up not long after Diane had left." He picked up the towel and resumed his cleaning. "I had a bad vibe about him."

* * *

Back in the car and on their way to the next interview, Emily spoke up. "Looks like we have a second likely candidate in the for of Curtis Blakemore."

"We do," Derek said with a nod. "I'll get Garcia on his trail after we finish up the rest of today's interviews."

"Sounds good to me." She abruptly slapped her hand against the dashboard when Derek suddenly jerked the SUV to the right to avoid the snow-covered car that slid into their lane.

"Sorry about that," Derek said, flashing her an apologetic smile.

"It's not your fault," she said, tightening her hold as the rear of the SUV fishtailed as they slowly negotiated a snow slick corner. "That idiot didn't even bother to clean off any of the car's windows. Probably just climbed in and started driving."

"Want to bet the driver just made a hole on the windshield big enough to see through?"

"Sucker bet," she answered back, loosening her death grip on the car.

Derek chuckled and winked at her. "If you like, you can drive back," he offered.

Emily rolled her eyes and scoffed at his suggestion. "That's a brilliant idea, Morgan. Let the one armed agent drive during a snowstorm. That will guarantee we'll get back to the police station in one piece. Besides—"

"I know, I know," he said with another chuckle. "You haven't been cleared to drive."

"Bingo." The two friends grinned at each other before Emily opened the file to familiarize both of them with its contents.

* * *

Their final three interviews were over before they had even begun. The parent's of Anita Morales and Sharon Marano, unable to turn to each for comfort in their time of grief, both had gotten divorced. Their whereabouts were currently unknown. Anne Johnstone's mother refused to talk to them. The only thing she would say through the closed door was that she was still angry with the cops for brushing her off whenever she called for an update. If they couldn't be bothered to help her why should she help the FBI?

"Any more?" Derek asked as they sat in the idling SUV waiting for the inside to warm up.

"No. That was the last one," Emily said. She looked back at the house and shook her head sadly. "That poor woman," she said softly.

"It's a shame she feels that way."

Emily glanced sharply at him. "Can you blame here?" The anger she had felt earlier at the police department's lack of motivation came bubbling back up to the surface. "The cops basically told her that her daughter wasn't worth looking for."

"No, I can't," he agreed but before he had a chance to say more, his coat began to ring. While he fished his phone out of his pocket, Emily returned her gaze to the window and the snow still falling.

He looked at the screen and grinned. "Hey, Doll Face," he greeted Garcia after putting her on speaker.

"How are my two fav arctic explorers doing? I hear you guys are up to your brown eyeballs in snow." Penelope's cheerfulness brought a small smile to Emily's lips.

Derek chuckled. "Yes it is snowing. But it's not quite that deep."

"Yet. Guess you are supposed to get six plus inches. So if I were you, I would keep my snowshoes and dog sled ready."

"Will do," he reassured her. "Now did you just call to talk snow or do you have something to tell us?"

"_Oh. Yes I do, my gorgeous hot toddy."_ Emily shook her head in amusement. _"It took awhile but I finally tracked down the original house owners, the Sisko's."_

"Where are they?" Emily asked, frisking her pockets for a pen. Derek handed her one and she nodded her thanks. She held it ready to scribble down the address.

"They moved to Florida and live in a rented apartment. Between the two of them, they are working four jobs to pay off their debts."

"Did you do a background check on them?" he asked.

"What a silly question. Of course I did. Besides their credit score that's in the toilet, they are squeaky clean."

"They probably had nothing to do with this," Emily decided. "I bet they have no clue about what was happening in their old home."

Derek nodded. "Baby Girl, I need you to check out a few more names. The first two are a priority." He quickly rattled off the name of Alice Smith's father, Curtis Blakemore, the Morales and the Marano's."

"_One of those may be your scumbag?"_ she asked.

"Don't know but there is something definitely off about them."

Before he had a chance to hang up, Penelope spoke again. _"Oh, about that other thingy you wanted me to do—"_

"Talk to you later," he said quickly and hit the off button, prompting Emily to glance at him in curiosity.

"What is the thingy?" she asked.

Derek threw the SUV into gear. "Nothing important," he said with a dismissive shrug. "She's trying to locate some brass bathroom fixtures I need for one of my properties."

Emily gazed at him for a second before giving him a skeptical look. "It you say so."

"I do," he lied, not wanting to spoil the possible surprise he had for her.

"Right," she drawled. "When you are ready to tell me what the thingy really is, you know where to find me." She paused thinking. "Better yet. Maybe I'll call Garcia later and ask her myself. You know she can't keep a secret for long," she gave him a calculated sideways glance.

"You wouldn't," Derek retorted, having a flash of Déjà vu from yesterday on the jet when he had threatened to tattle on her to her doctor for not wearing the sling. Now he was on the other end of it.

"Try me."

* * *

_Hmm...I wonder what the thingy is. Definitely has me curious. _

_Judging from the way the future chapters have written themselves, this is going to be wrapping up in five chapters or so. Not as long as my other ones but this is what the story is dictating to me and I have to go with the flow. So before you go, please let me know what you think and I'll see everyone next Weds.. Until then._


	7. Chapter 7

_Hello, everyone. Glad to see all of you back. A big thanks to those who took the time to review. It was very much appreicated. Now I wonder if we will get to find out what the thingy Garcia was doing for Morgan. Enjoy._

* * *

With the snow coming down harder, the late hour and the strong desire not to get stuck in a snowdrift somewhere, the two agents decided to call it a night. They headed back to the hotel and chose one of its smaller restaurants to dine in. Just like breakfast, dinner was a quiet affair. Emily was lost in her head. She didn't want to talk; she was still upset at how the cops had written most of the missing women off. Derek gave her all the space she wanted by not pushing her to maintain a conversation with him.

After pushing her food around her plate for twenty minutes, Emily let out a sigh of defeat. She was no longer hungry even though she had been famished when they had walked in. She put the fork down and tossed her napkin on top of the uneaten food.

"I guess I'm not very good company. So I think I'm going to call it an early night. I hope you don't mind," she asked as she pushed her chair away from the table.

"Not at all," Derek said with a shake of his head. He then smiled at her. "Breakfast at eight?"

"I'll be there this time. I promise."

"I know you will. See you in the morning, Emily. Sleep well," he wished her.

"I will. Night, Derek."

"Night."

Emily gave him an apologetic smile before heading for her room. Derek took a sip of his drink as he watched her leave. He knew she had to be tired, he could see it in her eyes, in her body and in the way her feet dragged when she walked. Her recent hip injury made her limp when she was tired. He prayed she would have a nightmare free night so that she could get the rest she really needed.

You didn't have to be a profiler to realize that the nightmare she had last night wasn't the first. Nor would it be the last. It was probably just the latest in a long line of bad dreams that had plagued her from the moment she had awaken in the hospital after being stabbed with a table leg. If she wasn't suffering from them then there was something seriously wrong with her mental status. Even though Dave had never come out and said it, Derek had deduced it when he had stopped by for a visit and the senior profiler had said Emily had a rough night. He sighed and hoped his best friend was talking about the nightmares during her mandatory counseling sessions. But knowing Emily like he did, she was probably lying through her teeth to her therapist.

Shaking his head at her stubbornness, Derek pulled out his phone and dialed his favorite technical analyst. "Hey, Baby Girl, sorry about the hang up earlier. You find what I asked you for?"

* * *

The closer Emily got to her hotel room, the more cautious she became. She flung her coat and sling over her right shoulder to free up her hands. With her left one resting on the butt of her gun, she used her right hand to insert the keycard in the lock. She used her foot to prop open the door while she put away the keycard and drew her weapon. Now with both hands wrapped comfortably around the gun, Emily quietly slipped into the room. It took her less than a minute to clear the space.

Once she knew the room was empty, Emily released the breath she had been holding. Holstering the gun, she went to secure the door with the lock, chain and desk chair. She also retrieved the coat and sling she had dumped on the floor when she had first entered. After hanging up the still damp coat, she went over to the bed and sat down with a sigh.

_What a day,_ she thought wryly as she started to take off her winter boots. She was still embarrassed by her emotional display from earlier. In the six years she had been with the BAU, she had never let a case affect her like that, to make her lose control. Yes, some cases had upset her but she kept her emotions in check and only released them when she was safely in the confines of her apartment. But today she was so angry that she wanted to hit somebody or someone as hard as she could, just to feel the pain she had caused them and her. And that rage was still there; she could feel it boiling just below the surface and it scared her.

The ringing of her cell phone startled her. She flinched, snapping her out of her reverie. Automatically she glanced a her travel clock and it was then that she realized that she had been sitting there for over a half an hour staring into space, one boot on and the other in her hand.

The ringing continued, spurning her into action. Dropping the boot, she fumbled for the phone and let out a heavy sigh when she saw the screen. Earlier Emily had wondered if the day could get any worse and it just had. Her mother was on the other end of the line. She briefly considered not answering the call like she had been doing for the last month but Dave's words came to mind. He had suggested that she could be the bigger person and reach out to her mother. With another sigh, she thumbed the phone on.

"Hello, Mother."

There was a slight intake of breath. _"Oh, Emily. I didn't think you would answer,"_ Elizabeth confessed.

Emily got up and went over to the window to watch the snowfall. It was something she had always found calming and right now she could use all the calmness she could get when dealing with her mother.

"If you would like, I can hang up so that you can leave me your message," she suggested, secretly hoping she would take her up on her offer.

_"That won't be necessary. I really wanted to hear your voice."_

_Now you have,_ she thought and considered hanging up. "What can I help you with?" she asked instead.

_"I was calling to see how you are feeling. We haven't talked since that day I came to see you."_

Emily listened for the disapproval behind her mother's words and tone but she didn't hear any. All she could detect was genuine concern for her well-being.

"I'm feeling fine," she responded. "I'm almost back to one hundred percent. My collarbone is just taking a little longer to heal."

"_That is wonderful news, Lee,"_ Elizabeth said in obvious delight. _"I was also wondering if you had given any thought to what we had talked about."_

Emily drew a complete blank. All she could remember of that visit was the confusion from her mother's sudden declaration of love and interest in reconnecting had caused. She rested her hand on the cold glass of the window as she tried to come up with a suitable response.

Elizabeth must have sensed her hesitation. _"I wanted to see if you would like to go to lunch tomorrow and catch up with each other." _

"I can't."

"_Oh. I see,"_ Elizabeth said quietly.

Emily heard the disappointment in the Ambassador's voice and realized she had responded too abruptly. She hastened to clear up the misunderstanding. "Sorry. I meant I can't do lunch tomorrow. I'm in Minnesota on a consultation."

_"You're back at work?"_

"Yes, I am," Emily said and waited for the disparaging remark about her job. The Ambassador had always frown upon her chosen occupation. It didn't come.

"_How long have you been back?"_ There was curiosity in her mother's voice.

"Almost three weeks."

"_That's great,"_ Elizabeth said. _"It must feel good to be back…what do you call it? In the field?"_

"It does even if it is restricted field duty," Emily said with a slight sigh.

Elizabeth let out a light laugh, startling her daughter_. "Knowing you, restricted field duty is preferable to sitting behind a desk all day."_

"It is," she said, finding herself smiling a little bit.

"_I'm happy for you Emily. I really am."_ There was a moment of dead air. _"Well, I better let you go and get some sleep. I'm sure you have a busy day planned for tomorrow. Will you call me when you get back home? I would love to see you."_

To Emily's ears it sounded like a plea. "Sure. I will."

"_Thank you,"_ Elizabeth said with a mental sigh.

The Ambassador wanted to repair her relationship with her only daughter but she knew it was going to be a long, uphill battle. There was the wide chasm between them that had to be overcome, a task that was made harder by Emily's distrust of her actions. But forty years in politics had taught her that you never give up the fight.

"_Take care and be safe,"_ Elizabeth continued. _"I love you, my little Lee."_

Emily paused. "Umm…yeah, me too," she said softly and hung up.

She stared at the phone in her hand. Once again, the conversation with her mother had left Emily confused. The logical side of her pointed out that the Ambassador was making an effort at reconciliation while the other side that had been hurt one too many times thought different. It was suspicious and wondered what her ulterior motive was.

* * *

The phone call had left Emily slightly on edge. To get rid of that feeling she paced around her hotel room for a while. Once she felt that she was on a more even keel, she started to get ready for bed. After donning her pajamas, Emily sat on the bed and set the alarms on her travel clock and her cell phone. She had no intention of oversleeping and being late for breakfast two days in a roll. Before crawling under the covers, she removed her gun from its holster and slipped it under the pillows.

Emily was tired. She could feel it in her body especially in her shoulder and hip. But she didn't want to go to sleep just yet. She was afraid the nightmares would return so to keep them at bay, she had to stay awake as long as she could. Thinking the television would be a suitable distraction; she picked up the remote from the nightstand and turned it on. She flicked through the channels twice before settling on an old classic 'It Happened One Night'.

Just as she was getting into the movie, her cell phone buzzed and started dancing across the nightstand. Frowning in annoyance, she scooped up the device before it fell off and saw that Derek had sent her a text. He informed her that he had sent an email to her tablet that he needs her to look at ASAP. Muttering under her breath about what she was going to do to him for dragging her out of her nice, warm bed, Emily got up. She quickly retrieved the tablet from her briefcase and hopped back in between the still warm sheets.

Burrowing under the covers, Emily muted the television and opened her email. She found not one but two emails, both with attachments, waiting for her. She clicked on the first one and read the short message Derek had left for her.

'Emily, I know you had said that it hadn't been a big deal that you missed two important events in Russ' life but I believe it was. I hope this will make you feel better about it.'

Curious, Emily opened the attachment and found herself watching a video with a bunch of teenagers decked in either green or white caps and gowns. She frowned slightly. _Why would he send me this?_ She wondered. Then Russ' grinning mug flashed across the screen and she realized that it was a recording of his high school graduation.

"So this was the thingy Pen was helping him with," she marveled as she watched the ceremony.

Her heart swelled in pride as he walked tall and proud across the stage to accept his diploma. Then with the cheeky grin that she loved, Russ held it up over his head for all to see. Emily's smile was just as wide as his as she viewed it three more times before turning her attention to the second email. With a bit of trepidation she opened it and clicked on the attachment.

"If Pen was able to find his graduation, could it be possible that she found…" she trailed off as an image filled the screen.

Emily had her answer as she watched two baseball teams trot out on to the field. Somehow their resident computer whiz had managed to scrounge up a copy of Russ' championship baseball game. She turned off the television and made herself more comfortable. With the tablet resting against her raised knees, she watched the complete game, from the opening pitch to the final out. Hours later when it was all over, Emily shut down the tablet, turned out the light and fell into a nightmare free sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Derek found out that he wasn't the first one down to the hotel dining room. Emily was seated at a table by the window, working the crossword puzzle from the morning paper. She was dressed in a warm looking beige turtleneck and jeans. Her light blue fleece zip up jacket and sling were draped over the arm of the chair next to her. He grinned; it felt like old times. As he made a beeline to the buffet, Derek noted that she only had a glass of orange juice in front of her. So he loaded up two plates and carried them back to the table.

"Morning, Sunshine," he said in greeting as he sat down and slid one of the plates over to her.

Emily looked up and smiled. "Morning, Hot Stuff. Sleep well?"

"Yup. You?" he asked, taking a bite of his eggs.

"I did," she said, setting the crossword puzzle aside to study the offering on the plate.

Derek nodded and took another bite. He could see that she had. Emily looked well rested and tension free, her eyes were bright and alert. The woman sitting across from him was the complete opposite of the one he had met yesterday morning.

Emily picked up her fork then put it back down. "Derek?" she asked tentatively.

He looked up and met her eyes. They were full of gratitude. "Yes?"

"They helped," she said sincerely.

"I'm glad they did." He gave her a nod and a smile. Emily returned it then the two friends tucked into their breakfasts. When he was finished, Derek leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh.

"I watched Russ' game and I got to say, he's a damn good shortstop," he commented. "Has he been scouted by the major leagues?"

Emily wiped her mouth with the napkin before answering. "He has," she said with a proud smile. "Some wanted him to enter this years draft."

"I take it that he didn't since he's attending Georgetown."

"Correct. Before I di…went away," Emily was still uncomfortable talking about her supposed death, "I had suggested that he should go to college, play baseball there and get a degree. If he continues to get better, and I know he will, the scouts will still be sniffing around after he graduates."

"Sound advice. Professional sports are hard to break into," he observed.

"Exactly," she said, pleased that he was following her logic. "This way he would have something to fall back on if baseball doesn't pan out."

"I think he will make it."

"I do too. It's funny that when I first met him, Russ couldn't field a grounder," she said with a light laugh. She then surprised him by telling him about their first encounter.

* * *

Emily inhaled the crisp winter air as she stood next to the snow covered SUV. The morning had dawned clear and bright, allowing the sunlight to reflect off the foot of snow that had fallen all day yesterday and overnight. She had her jacket zipped all the way up and sported a beige knit hat on her head and a mismatched pair of gloves. Derek had teased her about wearing a mitten on one hand and a glove on the other. She had patiently explained that the fingers on her bad hand would be warmer with the mitten because together they would generate more heat than they would if they covered individually. He wisely shut up after that.

Squinting against the glare, Emily slipped on her sunglasses while on the other side of the car, Derek grunted from the effort to dig it out.

He paused to catch his breath that was coming out in big puffs of white. "You do know that you could help me out with this," he said, looking at her over the hood of the vehicle.

"I can't. Remember I got a bum shoulder?" she asked, holding out the arm encased in the sling she was wearing over her jacket.

"You need only one good arm to wield a snow brush," he huffed.

"But you have the only one that was in the car," she pointed out.

"You're a smart woman, Prentiss. I'm sure you can figure out a way to remove the snow from your side." He returned to his clearing.

"Okay."

Suspicious of how easily she had given in, Derek glanced back at her and…got a snowball in the face.

* * *

_Wasn't that nice of Morgan to find those videos for her? I thought it was. Now remember to come back next week because we're back to the case. But before you go, don't forget to tell me what you think. Until then._


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello everyone. I hope you all had a good week. Glad that you came back to next out the chapter. As always thanks to all those who reviewed. Made me all warm inside on these cold winter days. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

Emily retreated to the safe confines of the SUV after nailing Derek with the snowball. She would smile sweetly at him every time he would glare through one of the windows as he continued to work hard on cleaning off the snow. Derek had his revenge though. He kept the car keys with him so she had to sit in the ice-cold car on the rock hard seat. It was so cold inside that she could see her breath. But it was a price she was willing to pay to see Derek covered in snow.

Fifteen very cold minutes later, Derek climbed inside and started the SUV. He blew on his hands to warm them while he waited for the heat to kick in. He arched an disapproving eyebrow. "You do know I'm going to get you for that."

She let her eyes go wide. "I was only doing what you said. Getting the snow off," she said innocently.

"Yeah right," he grumbled and pointed a finger at her. "Just remember that payback is a bitch."

"I look forward to it," she said with an unrepentant smile. He snorted and threw the car into gear. "So," she said, turning the conversation back to consultation. "What are our plans for today?"

Derek stared out the windshield for a moment before turning and giving her a wink. "I think we should interview the families of our known victims first. Then head back to the police station and work on the finale profile. After we deliver it, we can head for home."

Emily glanced sharply at him. "So soon?"

He nodded, giving a snowplow a wide berth. "There's nothing more we can do, Emily. We were sent here just to do a consultation and give the cops something to work with. Technically it is a cold case. The last body is years old and he hasn't dropped any fresh ones that we know of."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "Guess I was just hoping to give those poor women some justice before we left."

"Me too. They'll get their justice, eventually," he said quietly.

Emily nodded. "I'll text Detective Nyland for the families addresses." She pulled out her phone and one handedly sent him a message. A few minutes later she got a return text. She punched the first address into the car's GPS and they set off to interview the now grieving families.

* * *

The six interviews went pretty much like the seven from yesterday. Through the tears and handholding, the families all told them that the victims were all good girls but troubled. They had fallen in with the wrong crowds and ended up doing drugs. Yes, they had all run away at some point but they always returned. When pressed, a few family members admitted that they had heard the victims talking about moving away. The one thing all the grieving families had in common was the anger they had all felt that the cops hadn't done enough to find their loved ones.

Just like yesterday, Emily felt her temper rise at the police force's apparent incompetence. But today she managed to keep it in check. The only indicator of how she felt was the tightly clenched fist. So focused on the interviews and controlling her anger, Emily failed to notice Derek casting surreptitious glances at her hand.

Four long hours later, the two despondent agents returned to the police station. All six interviews had been depressing, causing Emily to move talking to the recently bereaved up to number two on her list of what she didn't miss when she was gone. Both of them needed something to lift their spirits and they got it before they had a chance to remove their jackets and sit down.

"_Afternoon, my wayward wanderers,"_ Penelope greeted them with a cheerful air. _"I have some news for you."_

Derek grinned. You couldn't help but smile when Garcia came on the line. "Hey, Sweet Thing. Just hearing your voice brings warmth to my heart."

"_Aww…flattery will get you everywhere," _she enthused, blushing slightly.

"What do you have for us," Emily asked, also smiling.

_"I've got the addresses for the Morales and the Maranos."_

"Let me grab a pen." Emily grabbed a legal pad and snagged a pen out of the pencil holder in the center of the table. "Hit me," she said and wrote down the addresses in her almost legible left handed writing.

"Did you find anything on Alice Smith's father?" Derek asked after she was done.

"_Not much, I'm afraid,"_ she admitted. _"But it's a moot point anyhoo. I discovered that Alice Smith is alive and well and living in Montana."_

Emily looked at Derek. "Guess she wanted to get as far away as she could from that father of hers. I don't blame her one bit."

Derek nodded in agreement. "Well, that eliminates one possible suspect. What about Curtis Blakemore?"

"_Oh, now he's a piece of work."_ They heard her typing away at her keyboard. _"He had numerous restraining orders filed against him for stalking. He was also arrested twice for rape but both times the charges were later dropped before the case made it to trial. And last but not least, he spent some time in prison for assault."_

"Is he still in the area?" Emily asked with the pen poised.

"_Yuppers,"_ Penelope said and rattled off his current address.

"We'll give that to Detective Nyland," he said to Emily. "Thanks, Baby Girl. What would we do without you?"

"_You probably would be outside building matching snowmen right now,"_ she teased.

"Probably or busy dodging snowballs." Derek shot a look at Emily who smiled sweetly at him.

"_Sooo?"_ Penelope drawled.

Derek and Emily looked in confusion at the phone on the table. "So?" he repeated.

Penelope huffed. _"How did the thingy go?"_

"Oh! The thingy," Derek exclaimed.

"The videos were great, Pen," Emily said with a smile. "Thanks for finding them."

"_No problem, Emster. So are you going to tell me who that handsome fellow is?"_ she pressed.

Emily looked down at the table and rubbed one finger over an imaginary spot. She hadn't planned on telling Derek about Russ and it still felt uncomfortable about letting anyone else know.

"Not right now but I will someday. I promise," she said.

Penelope heard the hesitation in Emily's voice and didn't push for further details. _"I'll hold you to it."_

"I know you will," Emily said, relieved that for once the technical analyst didn't continue to probe.

_"Is there anyone else you need the lowdown on?"_

Derek shook his head. "Not at this time. But if we do, you'll be the first we'll call."

_"As you should. Garcia signing off."_

The two chuckled as the bubbly blonde hung up. Emily turned her attention back to the nonexistent spot. "Umm…Derek, do you think we can keep Russ just between the two of us for the time being?"

Derek watched her avoiding making eye contact with him. He knew how difficult it was for her to reveal private details about herself. But he was also honored that she had opened up a little to him. It was a small step in the right direction. Maybe down the line he could convince her to let him meet Russ. The kid sounded like a remarkable young man.

"Sure," he said. "Garcia won't hear it from me. It's safe with me until you're ready. Does anyone else know?"

"Only you and Dave so far," she admitted with a small smile.

"Then I'm honored to be included in this prestigious little club," he said, laying a reverent hand over his heart. He knew his words and action would snap her out of her minor funk she had fallen into and put back in her eyes the mischievous glint she had in them right when she had pelted him with a snowball. It worked superbly.

Emily glanced up at him, a dubious look on her face and pointed the pen at him. "Don't get too cocky, Derek Morgan. I'm the president of this little club of three so I can vote your ass off the island whenever I get bored with you." She wagged her eyebrows at him. "Now lets get to work on that profile."

"As you wish, Madam President," he teased with a huge grin, making Emily wish that she had another snowball on hand.

* * *

They spent the next hour hammering out all the details of the final profile. Once they were satisfied that they had included everything they had thought pertinent to the case, Derek went in search of Detective Nyland.

"All done?" the detective asked as he took a seat at the table.

"As best as we could given what we know," Emily said, passing him a copy of the profile.

Nyland nodded and quickly scanned the information. He put the paper down and folded his hands on top of it. "Tell me about my bad guy," he asked. He had heard about how they deliver profiles and had always wanted to experience it first hand.

The two agents smiled knowingly at each other. Derek leaned back in the chair, rested an ankle over one knee and folded his hand on his stomach. Emily took a sip of her hot chocolate, grimaced at the watery taste and set it down, resting her fingertips on the rim of the mug.

Derek spoke first. "You are dealing with a non preferential rapist. He targets all women of various age, race and hair and eye color. His most likely prefers high risk victims because they are easier to get alone."

"How old do you think he is?"

"Around the same ages of his victims, late twenties to early thirties."

"Since all of the victims identified so far had been drug users. There is a good chance that he is either a dealer or is posing as one," Emily said. "He lures them to a certain location where he keeps them until he grows bored and decides to dispose of them."

"They are branded and raped multiple times. When he finally done he stabs them through the heart," Derek explained, keeping the disgust out of his voice.

"What's the significance of the brands?" Nyland inquired.

Emily slowly turned the mug in circles. "For the same reason a rancher brands his cattle. To prove that the women belong to him."

The detective repressed a shudder. "And the multiple stabbings?"

"Were all done postmortem," Derek answered. "They may have been done out of frustration when he couldn't repeat the thrill he got after the first kill."

Emily continued. "He hides the bodies in abandoned houses where they are less likely to be found. And these homes are located outside of his comfort zone."

"Comfort zone?"

"It's where he lives and works," Derek supplied. "He doesn't want the bodies traced back to him."

She nodded in agreement. "He may still be active. He could have found a new dumpsite when the neighborhood watch was established. But there is also the possibility that he is in jail, has died or even moved away. That would explain why you haven't found any more bodies."

Detective Nyland nodded in agreement. He picked up the profile and reread it. This time very carefully. "This is going to be a big help," he said when he was done. "Or at least, point us in the right direction."

"That's what we're hoping it will do," Emily said with an encouraging smile.

"We also have a likely suspect for you," Derek said and gave the detective Curtis Blakemore's name. He also included all the information Penelope had unearthed on the Siskos, Morales and Maranos.

"I'll definitely will take a closer look a this Blakemore guy." Detective Nyland stood up and shook hands with Derek. "Thank you again for taking the time out from you busy schedules to come here in this crappy weather to help us," he said and switched to his left hand to shake with Emily. "I didn't think the BAU did consultations in person."

"Normally we don't," Emily said. "But our Unit Chief saw something in your case that warranted a personal look."

"Much appreciated." He watched as they packed up what little they had brought along. "Heading back to Washington today?"

Emily nodded as she temporarily took off the sling to put her jacket on. "Yes."

"Detective Nyland?" a voice asked.

The three turned to see a young cop standing in the doorway with a file in his hand. He held it out. "They identified another one of the victims."

Nyland took the file from him and quickly perused it. "Who is it?" Derek asked.

"The body found in the chimney is that of Marcia Greene," he said with a soft sigh.

Derek and Emily exchanged glances. "We had determined the body in the chimney was the UnSub's stressor due to the greater damaged inflicted to the body," he said. "So we recommend that you take a closer look at her background. There is a clue to the killer hidden in it."

Emily remembered the gloomy look on Mitchell Greene's face when they had left. "If you would like, detective, we could do the death notification for you," she offered.

He sighed in relief. "I wouldn't mind at all. That way I can get the background checks started on Blakemore and Marcia Greene."

Derek turned to her. "You sure? I know you're not fond of doing death notifications."

She let out a soft chuckle. "I don't think anyone is fond of doing them. If they were, then there is something seriously wrong with them. Besides, we'll be passing by his home on our way to the hotel."

The dark agent shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Nothing seemed amiss when they pulled into Mitchell Greene's freshly shoveled driveway. But that all changed when they approached the front door and found it ajar. The two agents looked at each other in worry.

"Who leaves their door open on a cold day like this?" she wondered softly as she took off her gloves and stuffed them in a pocket.

"I definitely wouldn't," Derek said just as softly and drew his weapon.

Emily followed suit. She held the Glock in her left and slid her right arm out of the sling so that she had both hands wrapped around her weapon. She nodded to Derek when she was ready. He placed his hand flat against the door, silently counted to three and shoved it open.

"FBI!" he shouted, announcing them as he surged through the opening with Emily on his heels.

As one, they slipped through the ranch house, clearing each room as they passed. They met no resistance along the way. In the kitchen they found the door leading to the basement. Derek held up a finger to his lips, indicating a silent entry and Emily gave a short nod that she understood. He set his hand on the knob and turned it. The door opened with a barely audible click. Nudging it open with his foot, they crept silently down the steps with their guns leading the way. At the bottom, they split up and quickly cleared the space.

"Looks like no one is home," Derek observed as they holstered their weapons.

"I wonder why the door was open?" Emily asked, eyes flickering over the shelves lining one wall that were loaded with boxes.

"Maybe it sticks so it didn't close all the way when he left," he suggested, looking at the tool scattered haphazardly across the surface of the heavy wooden workbench.

"You would think he would have noticed that and went back to close it."

Derek shrugged and turned to her. "Ahem," he said and looked pointedly at the sling.

Emily rolled her eyes and slipped the sling back over her arm. "Better?"

"Better," he said with a smile. "Since Greene isn't home, we'll have to leave the death notification to Detective Nyland. We can't sit around the rest of the day waiting for him to return."

"Agreed," she said with a nod. "Lets head for home. I'll call him on the way."

They took one last look around the small basement then headed for the stairs. Just as she put her foot the first step, Emily hesitated. She whirled around, dropping her hand on to the butt of her gun.

"Did you hear that?"

* * *

_Uh oh! What did she hear. Yes, I ended on a cliffhanger and I believe it is the first one in the whole story. Unusual for me. Now don't forget to tell me what you think. I love hearing from you. Until next week._


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